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THE 



ALHAMBEA. 



BY 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 



NEW YORK : 

WORTIIINGTON CO, 
747 Broadway. 



2^- 






EXCHANGE 
o 

JUN 12 tea 

Seri^ Recerd r^lmon 

Copy .- 



TROWS 

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPAHT^ 

NEW YORK. 



THE ALHAMBRA. 



CONTENTS. 



dedication 

The Journey 

Government of the Alhambra 

Intkhior of the Alhambra 

The Tower of Comares 

Reflections on the Moslem Domination in Spain 

The Household 

The Truant 

oo 

The Author's Chamber ^t 

The Alhambra by Moonlight 45 

Inhabitants of the Alhambra 

The Balcony 

•*!/ 

The Adventure of the Mason 54 

A Ramble among the Hills 

The Court of Lions 

Boabdil el Chico 

momentos of boabdil 



46 



57 

63 

67 

70 

The Tower of Las Infantas 73 

The House of the Weathercock 74 

Legend of the Arabian Astrologer 75 

Legend of the Three Beautiful Princesses .' rq 

[iOCAL Traditions 

Legend of the Moor's Legacy 

i^'isiTORs of the Alhambra 



108 
109 
126 



Legend of Prince Ahmed Al Kamel; or, the Pilgrim of Love J80 

legend op the Rose of the Alhambra; or, the Page and the Ger-Falcon. 156 

The Veteran jgg 

The Governor and the Notary 17q 

JOVERNOR MaNCO AND THE SOLDIER j-5 

egend of the Two Discreet Statues 189 

Iahamad Aben Alahmar, the Founder op the Alhambra 203 

usKF Abul Hagias, the Finisher of the Alhambra , 209 



DEDICATION, 



TO DAVID WILKIE, ESQ., R.A. 

My DfflAR Sir:— You may remember that, in the course of the 
rambles we once took together about some of the old cities of 
Spain, particularly Toledo and Seville, we frequently remarked 
the mixture of the Saracenic with the Gothic, remaining from 
the time of the Moors, and were more than once struck with 
incidents and scenes in the streets, that brought to mind pas- 
sages in the "Arabian Nights." You then urged me to write 
sometliliig illustrative of these peculiarities ; ' ' something in the 
Haroun Alraschid style," that should have a dash of that Ara- 
bian spice which pervades every thing in Spain. I call this to 
mind to show you that you are, in some degree, responsible for 
the present work ; in which I have given a few ' ' Arabesque" 
sketches and tales, taken from the life, or founded on local tra- 
ditions, and mostly struck off during a residence in one of the 
most legendary and Morisco-Spanish places of the Peninsula. 

I inscribe this work to you, as a memorial of the pleasant 
scenes we have witnessed together, in that land of adventure, 
and as a testimony of an esteem for your worth, which can 
only be exceeded by admiration of your talents. 

Your friend and fellow traveller. 

The Author. 



I 

1 



THE ALIIAMBRA. 



A SERIES OF TALES AND SKETCHES OF THE 
MOORS and' SPANIARDS. 



THE JOURNEY. 



In the spring of 1829, the author of this work, whom curiosity 
had brougiit into Spain, made a rambhng expedition from Se- 
ville to Granada, in company with a friend, a member of the 
Russian embassy at Madrid. Accident had thrown us together 
Lrom distant regions of the globe, and a similarity of taste led 
us to wander together among the romantic mountains of An- 
dalusia. Should these pages meet his eye, wherever thrown 
by the duties of his station, whether minghng in the pageantry 
of courts or meditating on the truer glories of nature, may they 
recall the scenes of our adventurous companionship, and with 
them the remembrance of one, in whom neither time nor dis- 
tance will obhterate the recollection of his gentleness and 
worth. 

And here, before setting forth, let me indulge in a few previ- 
ous remarks on Spanish scenery and Spanish travelling. 
Many are apt to picture Spain in their imaginations as a soft 
I southern region decked out with all the luxuriant charms of 
I voluptuous Italy. On the contrary, though there are excep- 
ftions in some of the maritime pro^ances, yet, for the greater 
part, it is a stern, melancholy country, with rugged mountains 
and long, naked, sweeping plains, destitute of trees, and inva- 
riably silent and lonesome, partaking of the savage and solitary 
character of Africa. What adds to this silence and loneliness, 
is the absence of singing birds, a natural consequence of the 
want of groves and hedges. The vulture and the eagle are seen 
wheeling about the mountain cliffs and soaring over the plpins, 



S Tim ALIIAMBEA. 

and groups of shy bustards stalk about the heaths, but th€ 
myriads of smaller birds, which animate the whole face oi 
other countries, are met with in but few provinces of Spain, and 
in them cliiefly among the orchards and gardens which sur- 
round the habitations of man. 

In the exterior provinces, the traveller occasionally traverses 
great tracts cultivated with grain as far as the eye can reach, 
waving at times with verdure, at other times naked and sun° 
bm^nt ; but he looks round in vain for the hand that has tilledi 
the soil : at length he perceives some village perched on a steepi 
hill, or rugged crag, with mouldering battlements and ruined! 
watch-tower ; a strong-hold, in old times, against civil war ori 
Moorish inroad ; for the custom among the peasantry of congre- 
gating together for mutual protection, is still kept up in most: 
parts of Spain, in consequence of the marauding of roving free- 
booters. 

But though a great part of Spain is deficient in the garniture 
of groves and forests, and the softer charms of ornamental cul- 
tivation, yet its scenery has something of a high and lofty char- 
acter to compensate the want. It partakes something of the 
attributes of its people, and I think that I better understand i 
the proud, hardy, frugal and abstemious Spaniard, his manly 
defiance of hardships, and contempt of effeminate indulgences, , 
since I have seen the country he inhabits. 

There is something, too, in the sternly simple features of the 
Spanish landscape, that impresses on the soul a feeling of sub- 
limity. The immense plains of the Castiles and La Mancha, , 
extending as far as the eye can reach, derive an interest from, ii 
their very nakedness and immensity, and have something of :| 
the solemn gi^andeur of the ocean. In ranging over these i| 
boundless wastes, the eye catches sight, here and there, of a i! 
straggling herd of cattle attended by a lonely herdsman, mo- ■ 
tionless as a statue, mth his long slender pike tapering up like 
a lance into the air ; or beholds a long train of mules slowly 
moving along the waste hke a train of camels in the desert, or 
a single herdsman, armed with blunderbuss and stiletto, and 
prowling over the plain. Thus, the country, the habits, the 
very looks of the people, have something of the Arabian char- 
acter. The general insecurity of the country is evinced in the 
universal use of weapons. The herdsman in the field, the shep- 
herd in the plain has his musket and his knife. The wealthy 
villager rarely ventures to the market-town without his trabu- 
cho, and, perhaps, a servant on foot with a blunderbuss on 



TIIK JOURNEY. 9 

lis shoulder ; and the most petty journey is undertaken with 
he preparations of a warlike enterprise. 

The flangers of the road produce, also, a mode of travelling, 
•esembling, on a diminutive scale, the caravaiLS of the East. 
The arrierors or carriers, congregate in troops, and set oft' in 
arge and well-armed trains on appointed days, while individual 
ravellers swell their number and contribute to their strength. 
n this primitive way is the commerce of the country carried 
•n. The muleteer is the general medium of traffic, and the 
egitimate wanderer of the land, traversing the Peninsula from 
he Pyrenees and the Asturias, to the Alpuxarras, the Serrania 
le Ronda, and even to the gates of Gibraltar. He lives frugally 
;nd hardily; his alforjas (or saddle-bags), of coarse cloth, hold 
lis scanty stock of provisions ; a leathern bottle hanging at his 
addie-bow, contains wine or water for a supply across barren 
nountains and thirsty plains ; a mule cloth spread upon the 
jound is his bed at night, and his pack-saddle is his pillow, 
lis low but clear-limbed and sinewy form betokens strength ; 
lis complexion is dark and sun-burnt; his eye resolute, but 
uiet in its expression, except when kindled by sudden emo- 
ion; his demeanour* is frank, manly, and courteous, and he 
lever passes you without a grave salutation — " Dios guarda a 
Lsted !"— ' ' Vay usted con Dios caballero !"— ' ' God guard you !" 
-" God be with you ! cavalier !" 

As these men have often their whole fortune at stake upon 
he burden of their muJes, they have their weapons at hand, 
lung to their saddles, and ready to be snatched down for des- 
erate defence. But their united numbers render them secure 
gainst petty bands of marauders, and the solitary bandalero, 
rmed to the teeth, and mounted on his Andalusian steed, 
overs about them, like a pu'ate about a merchant convoy, 
rithout dari»g to make an assault. 

The Spanish muleteer has an inexhaustible stock of songs 
nd ballads, with which to beguile his incessant way-faring, 
'he airs are rude and simple, consisting of but few inflexions, 
'hese he chants forth with a loud voice, and long drawling 
adence, seated sideways on his mule, who seems to listen with 
ifinlte gravity, and to keep time with his paces, to the tune, 
he couplets thus chanted are often old traditional romances 
bout the Moors ; or some legend of a saint ; or some love ditty ; 
r, what is still more frequent, some ballad about a bold contra- 
andista, or hardy bandalero ; for the smuggler and the robber 
re poetical heroes among the common people of Spain. Often 



10 THE ALHAMBRA. 

the song of the muleteer is composed at the instant, and relate 
to some local scene, or some incident of the journey. This ta 
ent of singing and improvising is frequent in Spain, and is san 
to have been inherited from the Moors. There js somethin,! 
wildly pleasing in listening to these ditties among the rude ann 
lonely scenes they illustrate, accompanied as they are, by th 
occasional jingle of the mule-bell. 

It has a most picturesque effect, also, to meet a train of muW 
teers in some mountain pass. First you hear the bells of tht 
leading mules, breaking with their simple melody the stillnesi 
of the airy height ; or, perhaps, the voice of the muleteer aci 
monishing some tardy or wandering animal, or chanting, ai 
the full stretch of his lungs, some traditionary ballad. M 
length you see the mules slowly winding along the cragge-^ 
defile, sometimes descending precipitous chffs, so as to presen 
themselves in full relief against the sky, sometimes toihng ui 
the deep arid chasms below you. As they approach, you descr r 
their gay decorations of worsted tufts, tassels, and saddW 
cloths ; while, as they pass by, the ever ready trabucho, slun 
behind their packs and saddles, gives a hint of the insecurit 
of the road. 

The ancient kingdom of Granada, into which we are aboij 
to penetrate, is one of the most mountainous regions of Spaii 
Vast sierras or chains of mountains, destitute of shrub or tree 
and mottled with variegated marbles and granites, elevate thei 
sun-bm-nt summits against a deep blue sky, yet in their rugge 
bosoms lie engulfed the most verdant and fertile valley, whei. 
the desert and the garden strive for mastery, and the very rocll 
as it were, compelled to yield the fig, the orange, and the ci 
ron, and to blossom with the myrtle and the rose. 

In the wild passes of these mountains, the sight of walle 
towns and villages built like eagles' nests among the cliffs, an 
surrounded by Moorish battlements, or of ruined watch-to wei 
perched on lofty peaks, carry the mind back to the chivalroi 
days of Christian and Moslem warfare, and to the romant; 
struggle for the conquest of Granada. In traversing their loft 
Sierras, the traveller is often obliged to ahght and lead his horf 
up and down the steep and jagged ascents and descents, resen 
bling the broken steps of a staircase. Sometimes the ro& 
winds along dizzy precipices, without parapet to guard hi. 
fi'om the guffs below, and then will plunge down steep an 
dark and dangerous declivities. Sometunes it struggles throug 
rugged barrancos, or ravines, worn by water torrents; the olf 



Tilt: JOURNEY. 



11 



icure paths of the Contrabandista, wliile ever and anon, the 
numous cross, the memento of robbery and murder, erected 
.n a mound of stones at some lonely part of the road', adnu)ii- 
shes the traveller that he is among the haunts of banditti; 
»erhaps, at that very moment, under tlie eye of some lurking 
>andalero. Sometimes, hi winding through tlic narrow valleys, 
te is startled by a horse bellowing, and beholds above him, on 
ome green fold of the mountain side, a herd of fierce Andalu- 
ian bulls, destmed for the combat of the arena. There is 
omething awful in the contemplation of these terrific animals, 
iothed with tremendous strength, and ranging their native 
astures, in untamed wildness: strangers almost to the face of 
lan. They knoAv no one but the sohtary herdsman who attends 
pon them, and even he at times dares not venture to approach 
liem. The low bellowings of these buUs, and their menacing 
spect as they look down from their rocky height, give addi- 
[onal wildness to the savage scenery around. 
I have been betrayed unconsciously into a longer disquisition 
dan I had intended on the several features of Spanish travel- 
ing; but there is a romance about all the recollections of tlie 
'eninsula that is dear to the imagmation. 

I It was on the first of May that my companion and myself 
3t forth from Seville, on our route to Granada. We had made 

II due preparations for the nature of our journey, which lay 
arough mountainous regions where the roads are httle better 
aan mere mule paths, and too frequently beset by robbers. 
he most valuable part of our luggage had been forwarded by 
learrieros; we retained merely clothing and necessaries for 
ae journey, and money for the expenses of the road, with a 
ifficient surplus of the latter to satisfy the expectations of 
t)bbers, should we be assailed, and to save ourselves from the 
i>ugh treatment that awaits the too wary and emptjiianded 
^aveUer. A couple of stout hired steeds were provided for 
irselves, and a third for our scanty luggage, and for the 
>nveyance of a sturdy Biscayan lad of about twenty j-ears of 
?e, who was to guide us through the perplexed mazes of the 
Lountam roads, to take care of our horses, to act occasionally 

i our valet, and at all times as our guard; for he had a for- 
idable trabucho, or carbine, to defend us from rateros, or 
htary footpads, about which weapon he made much vain- 
orious boast, though, to the discredit of his generalship, I 
ust say that it generally hung unloaded behind his saddle 
e was. however, a faithful, cheery, kind-hearted creature, ful 



12 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

of saws and proverbs as that miracle of squires, the renowne< 
Sancho himself, whose name we bestowed upon him ; and, lik 
a true Spaniard, though treated by us wibh companionabl 
famiUarity, he never for a moment in his utmost hilarity ovei 
stepped the bounds of respectful decorum. 

Thus equipped and attended, we set out on our journey wit! 
a genuine disposition to be pleased : with such a dispositior: 
what a country is Spain for a traveller, where the most misei 
able inn is as full of adventure as an enchanted castle, an; 
every meal is in itself an achievement ! Let others repine ai 
the lack of turnpike roads and sumptuous hotels, and all thl 
elaborate comforts of a country cultivated into tameness an: 
common-place, but give me the rude mountain scramble, thl 
roving haphazard way-faring, the frank, hospitable, though 
half wild manners, that give such a true game flavour ti 
romantic Spain ! 

Our first evening's entertainment had a relish of the kinc 
We arrived after sunset at a litfcle town among the hills, aften 
a fatiguing journey over a wide houseless plain, where we ha 
been repeatedly drenched with showers. In the inn weri 
quartered a party of Miguelistas, who were patrolling thi' 
country in pursuit of robbers. The appearance of foreigner 
like ourselves was unusual in this remote town. Mine host wit 
two or three old gossipping comrades in brown cloaks studie ! 
our passports in the corner of the posada, while an Alguaz 
took notes by the dim light of a lamp. The passports were 
foreign languages and perplexed them, but our Squire Sanch 
assisted them in their studies, and magnified our importanc 
with the grandiloquence of a Spaniard. In the mean time tl]i 
magnificent di tribution of a few cigars had won the hearts 
all around us. In a little while the whole community seeine 
put in agitation to make us welcome. The Corregidor himse 
waited upon us, and a great rush-bottomed armed chair w^ 
ostentatiously bolstered into our room by our landlady, fc 
the accommodation of that important personage. The con 
mander of the p itrol took supper with us ; a surly, talkin^i 
laughing, swaggering Andaluz, who had made a campaign i 
South America, and recounted his exploits in love and wi 
with much pomp of praise and vehemence of gesticulation, ar 
mysterious roihng of the eye. He told us he had a list of a 
the robbers in the country, and meant to ferret out ever 
mother's son of them ; he offered us at the same time some < 
his soldiers as an escort. "One is enough to protect yoi 



THE JOURNEY. 13 

jignors; the robbers know me, and know my men; the sight 
»f one is enough to spread terror through a whole sierra." 
Ve thanked him for )iis offer, but assured him, in his own 
train, that with the protection of our redoubtable Squire 
lanc'iio, we were not afraid of all the ladrones of Andalusia. 
1 AVhile we were supping with our Andalusian friend, we 
leard the notes of a guitar and the click of castanets, and 
•resently, a chorus of voices, singing a popular air. In fact, 
[line host had gathered togetlier the amateur singers and 
tiusicians and the rustic belles of the neighbourhood, and on 
ioing forth, the court-yard of the inn presented a scene of 
'ue Spanish festivity. We took our seats with mine host and 
lostess and the commander of the patrol, under the archway 
L the court. The guitar passed from hand to hand, but a 
)vial shoemaker was the Orpheus of the place. He wtis a 
leasant looking fellow with huge black whiskers and a 
aguish eye. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows; he 
)uched the guitar with masterly skill, and sang little amorous 
itties with an expressive leer at the women, v/ith whom he 
as evidently a favourite. He afterwards danced a fandango 
l^ith a buxom Andalusian damsel, to the grert delight of the 
[>ectators. But none of the females present could compare 
ith mine host's pretty daughter Josef a, who had slipped 
^vay and made her toilette for the occasion, and had adorned 
er head mth roses ; and also distinguished herself in a bolero 
[ith a hanasome young dragoon. We had ordered our host 
► let wine and refreshments circulate freely among the 
t)mpany, yet, though there was a motley assemblage of 
Kldiers, muleteers and villagers, no one exceeded the bounds 
r sober enjoyment. The scene was a study for a painter : the 
[cturesque group of dancers ; the troopers in their half mill' 
iry dresses, the peasantry wrapped in their brown cloaks, 
t)r must I omit to mention the old meagre Alg-uazil in a short 
lack cloak, who took no notice of any thing going on, but 
It in a corner diligently writing by the dim light of a hugo 
>pper lamp that might have figured in the days of Don 
iiixote. 

I am not writing a regular narrative, and do not pretend to 
ve the varied events of several days' rambUng over hill and 
lie, and moor and mountain. We tr ivelled in true contra- 
uidista style, taking every thing, rough and smooth, as we 
und it, and mingling with all classes and conditions in a 
nd of vagabond companionship. It is the true way to travel 



14 THE ALEAMBRA. 

in Spain. Knowing the scanty larders of the inns, and th 
naked tracts of country the traveller has often to traverse, w 
had taken care, on starting, to have the alforjas, or saddle 
bags, of our Squire well stocked with cold provisions, and hi 
beta, or leathern bottle, which was of portly dimensions, fiUe 
to the neck with choice Valdepenas wine. As this was 
munition for our campaign more important than even hi 
trabucho, we exhorted him to have an eye to it, and I will di 
him the justice to say that his namesake, the trencher-lovinj 
Sancho himself, could not excel him as a provident purveyoi 
Though the alforjas and beta were repeatedly and vigorous!;] 
assailed throughout the journey, they appeared to have 
miraculous property of being never empty; for our vigilarii' 
Squire took care to sack every thing that remained from on 
evening repasts at the mns, to supply our next day's luncheori 

What luxurious noontide repasts have we made on th 
green sward by the side of a brook or fountain under a shadi 
tree, and then what delicious siestas on our cloaks spread ou; 
on the herbage! 

We paused one day at noon, for a repast of the kind. I' 
was in a pleasant httle green meadow, surrounded by hill 
covered with olive trees. Our cloaks v^ere spread on the gras 
under an elm tree, by the side of a babbling rivulet : our horsei 
were tethered where they might crop the herbage, and Sanch 
produced his alforjas with an air of triumph. They containe( 
the contributions of four days' journeying, but had been sigi 
nally enriched by the foraging of the previous evening, in 
plenteous inn at Antequera. Our Squire drew forth thf 
heterogeneous contents one by one, and they seemed to havv 
no end. First came forth a shoulder of roasted kid, very httl 
the worse for wear, then an entire partridge, then a grea; 
morsel of salted codfish wrapped in paper, then the residue o 
a ham, ixien the half of a pullet, together with several rolls dl 
bread and a rabble rout of oranges, figs, raisins, and walnuts 
His beta also had been recruited with some excellent wine c 
Malaga. At every fresh apparition from his larder, he coul 
enjoy our ludicrous surprise, throwing hmiself back on th' 
grass and shouting with laughter. 

Nothing pleased this simple-hearted varlet more than to ¥• 
compared, for his devotion to the trencher, to the renowne' 
squire of Don Quixote. He was well versed in the history ( 
the Don, a,nd, like most of the common people of Spain, 1]| 
firmly believed it to bo a true history. 



TEE JOURNEY. I5 

*' All that, however, happened a long time ago, Signor," said 
3 to me, one day, with an inquiring look. 
! " A very long time, " was the reply, 

;*'I dare say, more than a thousand years?"— still looking 
pbiously. 

"I dare say? not less." 
The squire was satisfied. 

jAs we v/ere making our repast above described, and divert- 
g (Uirselves ^vith the simple drollery of our squire, a solitary 
iggar approached us, who had almost the look of a pilgrim. 
b was evidently very old, with a gray beard, and supported 
mself on a staff, yet age had not borne him down; he was 
11 and erect, and had the wreck of a fine form. He wore 
pund Andalusian hat, a sheepskin jacket, and leathern 
eeches, gaiters, and sandals. His dress, though old and 
tched, was decent, his demeanour manly, and he addressed 
with that grave courtesy that is to be remarked in the low- 
: Spaniard. We were in a favourable mood for such a 
sitor, and in a freak of capricious charity gave him some 
[^er, a loaf of fine wheaten bread, and a goblet of our choice 
ne of Malaga. He received them thankfully, but without 
y grovelhng tribute of gratitude. Tasting the wine, he held 
ip to the light, with a shght beam of surprise in liis eye; 
m quaffing it off at a draught: " It is many years," said he,' 
[ince I have tasted such wine. It is a cordial to an old man's 
irt. " Then looking at the beautiful wheaten loaf : ' ' Bendita 
, tal pan !" (blessed be such bread !) So saying, he put it in 
wallet. We urged him to eat it on the spot. "No, 
nors," rephedhe, "the wine I had to drink, or leave; but 
I bread I must take home to share with my family." 
)nv man Sancho sought our eye, and reading permission 
^re, gave the old man some of the ample fragments of our 
ast; on condition, however, that he should sit down and 
ke a meal. He accordingly took his seat at some httle dis- 
ce from us, and began to eat, slowly, and with a sobriety 
\ decormn that would have become a hidalgo. There was 
F>gether a jaeasured manner and a quiet self-possession about 
old man, that made me think he had seen better days; his 
?uage, too, though simple, had occasionally something pio- 
3sque and almost poetical in the phraseology. I set him 
^n for some broken-down cavalier. I was mi^aken, it was 
ling but the innate courtesy of a Spaniard, and the poetical 
1 of thought and language often to be found in the lowest 



■j^g THE ALEAMBRA, 

classes of this clear-witted people. For fifty years, he told u 
he had been a shepherd, but now he was out of employ, ai 
destitute. "When I was a young man," said he, " nothii 
could harm or trouble me. I was always well, always ga; 
but now I am seventy-nine years of age, and a beggar, ai 
my heart begins to fail me." 

Still he was not a regular mendicant, it was not un 
^cently that want had driven him to tliis degradation, and : 
gave a touching picture of the struggle between hunger ai 
pride, when abject destitution first came upon him, He w 
returning from Malaga, without money; he had not tasti 
food for some time, and was crossing one of the great plains 
Spain, where there were but few habitations. When almc 
dead with hunger, he applied at the door of a venta, or count 
inn. " Perdona usted per Dios hermano !" (excuse us, broth( 
for God's sake!) was the reply;— the usual mode in Spain 
refusing a beggar. "I turned away," said he, "with shai 
eceater than my hunger, for my heart was yet too proud, 
-same to a river with high banks and deep rapid current, a 
felt tempted to throw myself in; what should such an ( 
worthless wretched man as I live for! But when I was 
the brink of the current, I thought on the blessed Virgin, a 
turned away. I travelled on until I saw a country-seat, ai 
little distance from the road, and entered the outer gate of t 
court-yard. The door was shut, but there were two youi 
signoras at a window. I approached, and begged: 'Perdo 
usted per Dios hermano ! ' (excuse us, brother, for God's sak 
and the window closed. I crept out of the court-yard; I 
hunger overcame me, and my heart gave way. I thought i 
hour was at hand. So I laid myself down at the gate, co; 
mended myself to the holy Virgin, and covered my head to d. 
In a little while afterwards, the master of the house ca 
home. Seeing me lying at his gate, he uncovered my hei 
had pity on my gray hairs, took me into his house, and g£; 
me food. So, Signers, you see that we should always put C' 
fidence in the protection of the Virgin." 

The old man was on his way to his native place Archido; 
which was close by the summit of a steep and rugged mounta' 
He pointed to the ruins of its old Moorish castle. That cas' 
he said, was inhabited by a Moorish king at the time of 
wars of Granada. Queen IsabeUa invaded it with a gi^ 
army, but the king looked down from his castle among y 
clouds, and laughed her to scorn. Upon this, the Vir-, 



* TUB JOURNEY. I7 

|;>poared to the queen, and p:iiided her and her army up a mys- 

jrious path of the mountain, whicli liad never before been 

hown. When the Moor saw her coming, lie was astonished, 

iid springing with his horse from a precipice, Avas dashed to 

ecos. The marks of liis lioi-sc's hoofs, said the old man, are 

) Ix) seen on the margin of the rock to this day. And sec, 

ijinors, yonder is the road by which the queen and her army 

\«)anted, you see it like a riband up the mountain side; but 

miracle is, that, though it can be seen at a distance, when 

oil come near, it disappears. The ideal road to which he 

ointftd, was evidently a sandy ravine of the mountain, which 

loked narrow and defined at a distance, but became broad and 

Kiistinct on an approach. As the old man\s heart warmed 

Htii wine and wassail, he went on to tell us a story of the 

uiod treasure left imder the earth by the Moorish king. His 

vn house was next to the foundations of the castle. The 

n-ate and notary dreamt three times of the treasure, and 

ent to work at the place pointed out in their dreams. His 

n son-in-law heard the sound of their pick-axes and spades 

night. What they found nobody knows; they became sud- 

nly rich, but kept their own secret. Thus the old man had 

nco been next door to fortune, but was doomed never to get 

nder the same roof. 

I have remarked that the stories of treasure buried by the 

!'oors, which prevail throughout Spain, are most current 
nong the poorest people. It is thus kind nature consoles 
dtli shadows for the lack of substantials. The thirsty man 
reams of fountains and roaring streams, the himgry man of 
leal banquets, and the poor man of heaps of liidden gold; 
othing certainly is more magnificent than the imagination of 
beggar. 

The last travelling sketch which I shall give is a curious 
}ene at the little city of Loxa. This was a famous belligerent 
'ontier post, in the time of the Moors, and repulsed Ferdinand 
'om its walls. It was the strong-hold of old Ali Atar, the 
!ither-in-laAv of Boabdil, when that fiery veteran sallied forth 
kth his son-in-law, on that disastrous inroad, that ended in 
'le death of the chieftain, and the capture of the monarch, 
loxa is wildly situated in a broken mountain pass, on the 
anks of the Xenil, among rocks and groves, and meadows 
nd gardens. The people seem still to retain the bold fiery 
;»ii'it of the olden time. Our inn was suited to the place. It 
-■as kept by a, young, handsome, Andalusian widow, whost 



13 THE ALHAMBRA. 

trim busquina of black silk fringed with bugles, set off the 
play of a graceful form, and round pliant Hmbs. Her step was 
firm and elastic, her dark eye was full of fire, and the coquetry 
of her air and varied ornaments of her person showed thai 
she was accustomed to be admired. 

She was well matched by a brother, nearly about her own 
age; they were perfect models of the Andalusian majo and 
maja. He was tall, vigorous, and well formed, with a clear, 
olive complexion, a dark beaming eye, and curhng, chestnuli 
^vmskers, that met under his chin. He was gallantly dresseo 
in -^ short green velvet jacket, fitted to his shape, profusely 
decorated with silver buttons, with a white handkerchief ir 
each pocket. He had breeches of the same, with rows of but i 
tons from the hips to the knees ; a pink silk handkerchief rouno 
his neck, gathered through a ring, on the bosom of a neatlj 
plaited shirt; a sash round the waist to match; bottinas oi' 
spatterdashes of the finest russet leather, elegantly worked anc 
open at the calves to show his stockings, and russet shoes set 
ting off a weU-shaped foot. 

As he was standing at the door, a horseman rode up anc' 
entered into low and earnest conversation with him. He waf 
dressed in similar style, and almost with equal finery. A mar 
about thirty, square built, with strong Roman features, hand 
some, though shghtly pitted with the small-pox, with a free, 
bold and somewhat daring air. His powerful black horse waji 
decorated with tassels and fanciful trappings, and a couple oJ 
broad-mouthed blunderbusses himg behind the saddle. He hac 
the air of those contrabandistas that I have seen in the moun 
tains of Ronda, and, evidently, had a good understa.nding witl 
the brother of mine hostess ; nay, if I mistake not, he was £ 
favourite admirer of the widow. In fact, the whole inn and ife 
inmates had something of a contrabandista aspect, and the 
blunderbuss stood in a corner beside the guitar. The horsemar 
I have mentioned, passed his evening in the posada, and sang 
several bold mountain romances with gi^eat spirit. 

As we were at supper, two poor Asturians put in in distress, 
bogging food and a night's lodging. They had been waylaid by 
robbers as they came from a fair among the mountains, robbed 
of a horse, which carried all their stock in trade, stripped ot 
tiioir money and most of their apparel, beaten for having 
offered resistance, and left almost naked in the road. My con^ 
panion, with a prompt generosity, natural to him, ordered thed 



THE JOUilNET, 19 

I Slipper and a bed, and gave them a supply of money to help 
ihcm forward towards their home. 

As the evening advanced, the dramatis personee thickened, 
i large man, about sixty yeai*s of age, of powerful frame, came 
strolling in, to gossip with mine hostess. He was dressed in 
he ordinary Andalusian costume, but had a huge sabre tucked 
mdcr his arm, wore large moustaches and had something of a 
)tfcy swaggering air. Every one seemed to regard him with 
^reat deferenco. 

Our man, Sancho, whispered to us that he was Don Ventura 
Rodriguez, the hero and champion of Loxa, famous for his 
prowess and the strength of his arm. In the time of the French 
invasion, he surprised six troopers who were asleep. He first 
Secured their horses, then attacked them with his sabre ; killed 
some, and took the rest prisoners. For this exploit, the king 
illows him a peceta, (the fifth of a duro, or dollar,) per day, 
md has dignified him with the title of Don. 

I was amused to notice his swelling language and demeanour. 
Ele wa.s evidently a thorough Andalusian, boastful as he was 
)rave. His sabre was always in his hand, or under his arm. 
fie carries it always about with him as a child does a doU, calls 

his Santa Teresa, and says, that when he draws it, " tembla 
a tierra!" (the earth trembles!) 

I sat until a late hour Hstening to the varied themes of this 
notley group, who mingled together with the unreserve of a 
Spanish posada. We had contrabandista songs, stories of rob- 
bers, guerilla exploits, and Moorish legends. The last one from 
j)ur handsome landlady, who gave a poetical account of the 
iifiernos, or infernal regions of Loxa— dark caverns, in which 
lubtcrranoous streams and waterfalls make a mysterious sound. 
The common people say they are money coiners, shut up there 
from the time of the ]\Ioors, and that the Moorish kings kept 
fhcir treasures in these caverns. 

Were it the purport of this work, I could fill its pages with 
ho incidents and scenes of our rambling expedition, but other 
jhenios invite me. Journeying in this manner, we at length 
merged from the mountains, and entered upon the beautiful 
V'ega of Granada. Here we took our last mid-day's repast 
mder a grove of olive trees, on the borders of a rivulet, with 
ihe old Moorish capital in the distance, dominated by the ruddy 
owers of the Alhambra, while far above it the snowy summits 
)f the Sierra Nevada shone hke silver. The day was without 



20 ' THE ALHAMBRA, 

a cloud, and the heat of the sun tempered by cool breezes from 
the mountains ; after our repast, wc spread our cloaks and took 
our last siesta, lulled by the humming of bees among the flow- 
ers, and the notes of the ring doves from the neighbouring 
olive trees. "When the sultry hours were past, we resumed 
our journey, and after passing; between hedges of aloes and 
Indian figs, and through a wilderness of gardens, arrived aboi t 
simset at the gates of Granada. 



GOVERNMENT OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

To the traveller imbued with a feeling for the historical and 
poetical, the Alhambra of Granada is aa much an object of 
veneration as is the Caaba, or sacred house of Mecca, to all true 
Moslem pilgrims. How many legends and traditions, true and 
fabulous, how many songs and romances, Spanish and Arabian, 
of love and war and chivalry, are associated with this romantic 
pile ! The reader may judge, therefore, of our delight, when, 
shortly after our arrival in Granada, the governor of Alhambra 
gave us permission to occupy his vacant apartments in the' 
Moorish palace. My companion was soon summoned away by 
the duties of his station, but I remained for several months^ 
spell-bound in the old enchanted pile. The following papers* 
are the result of my reveries and researches, during that deli-;^ 
cious thraldom. If ih.ej have the pow^er of imparting any of | 
the witching charms of the place to the imagination of the! 
reader, he wiU not repine at lingering with me for a season in 
the legendary halls of the Alhambra. 

The Alhambra is an ancient fortress or castellated palace of 
the Moorish kings of Granada, where they held dominion over 
this their boasted terrestrial paradise, and made their last 
stand for empire in Spain. The palace occupies but a portion 
of the fortress, the waUs of which, studded with towers, stretch 
irregularly round the whole crest of a lofty hill that overlooks 
the city, and forms a spire of the Sierra Nevada, or Snowy 
Mountain. | 

In the time of the Moors, the fortress was capable of contain- 
ing an army of forty thousand men within its precincts, and 
served occasionally ae a strong-hold of the sovereigns against 



GOVERNMENT OF THE ALIIAMBRA. 21 

iheir rebellious subjects. After the kin.oiclom had passed into 
:he hands of the Christians, the Alhambra continued a royal 
ie mesne, and was occasionally inhabited by the Castilian 
nonarchs. The Emperor Charles V. began a sumptuous 
;)alace within its walls, but was deterred from completing it by 
epeatcd shocks of eartluiuakes. The last royal residents Avero 
^hilip V. and his beautiful Queen Elizabetta, of Parma, early 
n the eighteenth century. 

Great preparations were made for their reception. The 
)alace and gardens were placed in a state of repair ; and a new 
suite of apartments erected, and decorated by artists brought 
rom Italy. The sojourn of the sovereigns was transient; 
md, after their departure, the palace once more became deso- 
ate. Still the place was maintained with some military state. 
Che governor held it immediately from the crown: its jurisdic- 
ion extended down into the suburbs of the city, and was 
ndependent of the captain general of Granada. A consider- 
ible garrison Avas kept up ; the governor had his apartments 
n the old Moorish palace, and never descended into Granada 
without some military parade. The fortress, in fact, Avas a 
ittle toAvn of itself, having several streets of houses within its 
flails, together with a Franciscan convent and a parochial 
shurch. 

The desertion of the court, hoAvever, was a fatal bloAv to the 
Uliambra. Its beautiful Avails became desolate, and some of 
hem fell to ruin ; the gardens were destroyed, and the f oun- 
ains ceased to play. By degrees the dwellings became filled 
ip Avith a loose and lawless population; contrabandistas, who 
^vailed themselves of its independent jurisdiction, to carry on 
L wide and daring course of snmggling, and thieves and rogues 
f all sorts, who made this their place of refuge, from Avhence 
hey might depredate upon Granada and its vicinity. The 
trong arm of government at length interposed. The Avhole 
ommunity Avas thoroughly sifted; none Avere suffered to 
emain but such as Avere of honest character and had legiti- 
aate right to a residence ; the greater part of the houses Avere 
emolished, and a more hamlet left, Avith the parochial church 
,nd the Franciscan convent. 

During the recent troubles in Spain, when Granada was in 
he hands of the French, the Alhambra was garrisoned by 
heir troops, and the palace was occasionally inhabited by the 
i'rench commander. With that enlightened taste Avhich has 
,ver distinguished the French nation in their conquests, this 



22 THE ALHAMBRA. 

monument of Moorish elegance and grandeur was rescued 
from the absolute ruin and desolation that were overwhehning 
it. The roofs were repaired, the saloons and galleries pro- 
tected from the weather, the gardens cultivated, the water- 
courses restored, the fountains once more made to throw up 
their sparkling showers: and Spain may thank her invaders 
for having preserved to her the most beautiful and interesting 
of her historical monuments. 

On the departure of the French, they blew up several towers 
of the outer wall, and left the fortifications scarcely tenable. 
Since that time, the military importance of the post is at an 
end. The garrison is a handful of invalid soldiers, whose prin- 
cipal duty is to guard some of the outer towers, which serve, j 
occasionally, as a prison of state ; and the governor, abandon- ' 
ing the lofty hill of the Alhambra, resides in the centre of: 
Granada, for the more convenient despatch of his official! 
duties. I cannot conclude this brief notice of the state of the \ 
fortress, without bearing testimony to the honourable exertions ; 
of its present commander, Don Francisco de Salis Serna, who * 
is tasking all the hmited resources at his command, to put the j 
palace in a state of repair; and by his judicious precautions', 
has for some time arrested its too certain decay. Had his j 
predecessors discharged the duties of their station with equal 1 
fidehty, the Alhambra might yet have remained in almost its 1 
pristine beauty ; were government to second him with means j 
equal to his zeal, this edifice might still be preserved to adorn ' 
the land, and to attract the curious and enlightened of every ! 
clime, for many generations. 



INTERIOR OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

The Alhambra has been so often and so minutely described 
by travellers, that a mere sketch will probably be sufficient 
for the reader to refresh his recollection ; I will give, therefore, 
a brief account of our visit to it the morning after our arrival 
in Granada. 

Leavingour posada of La Espada, we traversed the renowned 
square of the Vivarrambla, once the scene of Moorish jousts 
and tournaments, now a crowded market place. From thence 
we proceeded along the Zacatin, the main street of what was 



INTERIOR OF TUVJ ALllAMBRA. 2;j 

the great Bazaar, in the time of the Moors, where the small 
shops and narrow alleys still retain their Oriental character. 
Ci'ossing an open place in front of the palace of the captain- 
general, we ascended a confined and winding street, the name 
of which reminded us of the chivalric days of Granada. It is 
called the Calle, or street of the Gomeres: from a Mooris}i 
family, famous in chronicle and song. This street led up to a 
mansion gateway of Grecian architecture, built by Charles V., 
forming the entrance to the domains of the Alhambra. 

At the gate were two or three ragged and superannuate.! 
soldiers, dozing on a stone bench, the successors of the Zegris 
and the Abencerrages ; while a tall, meagre varlet, avIioso 
rusty brown cloak v/as, evidently, intended to conceal the 
ragged state of his nether garments, was lounging in the sun- 
shine, and gossipping with an ancient sentinel, on dutj^ lie 
joined us as we entered the gate, and offered his services to 
showed us the fortress. 

I have a traveller's dislike to officious ciceroni, and did not 
altogether like the garb of the applicant: 

" You are well acquainted with the place, I presume?'* 
" Ningimo mas— pues, sefior, soy hijo de la Alhambra." 
(Nobody better — in fact, sir, I am a son of the Alhambra.) 
The common Spaniards have certainly a most poetical way of 
expressing themselves— ''A son of the Alhambra:" the appel- 
lation caught me at once ; the very tattered garb of my now 
acquaintance assumed a dignity in my ej^es. It was emble- 
matic of the features of the place, and became the progeny of a 
ruin. 

I put some further questions to him, and found his title was 
legitimate. His farnilj^ had lived in the fortress from genera- 
tion to generation ever since the time of the conquest. His 
name was Mateo Ximenes. "Then, perhaps," said I, ''you 
may be a descendant from the great Cardinal Ximenes." 

"Dies sabc! God knows, senor. It may be so. We are the 
oldest family m the Alhambra. Viejos Crist ianos, old Chris- 
tians, without any taint of Moor or Jew. I know we belong lo 
some great family or other, but I forget who. My father 
knows aU about it. He has the coat of arms hanging up in 
his cottage, up in the fortress."— There is never a Spaniard, 
however poor, but has some claim to high pedigree. The first 
title of this ragged worthy, however, had completely captivated 
nie, so I gladly accepted the services of the "son of the Al- 
hambra." 



24 THE ALUAMBRA. 

We now found ourselves in a deep narrow ravine, filled witli^ 
beautiful groves, with a steep avenue and various foot-paths '■ 
winding through it, bordered with stone seats and ornamented ; 
with fountains. To our left, we beheld the towers of the Al- ; 
hambra beetling above us ; to our right, on the opposite side of j 
the ravine, we were equally dominated by rival towers on aj 
rocky eminence. These, we were told, were the Torres Ver- 
mejos, or Vermilion towers, so called from their ruddj^ hue. 
No one knows their origin. They are of a date much anterior 
to the Aihambra. Some suppose them to have been built by 
the Eomans ; others, by some wandering colony of Phoenicians. 
Asceiuling the steep and shady avenue, we arrived at the foot 
of a huge square Moorish tower, forming a kind of barbican, 
through which passed the main entrance to the fortress. 
Within the barbican was another group of veteran invalids, 
one mounting guard at the portal, while the rest, wrapped in 
their tattered cloaks, slept on the stone benches. This portal 
is called the Gate of Justice, from the tribunal held within its 
porch during the Moslem domination, for the immediate trial 
of petty causes ; a custom common to the Oriental nations, and 
occasionally alluded to in the sacred Scriptures. 

The great vestibule, or porch of the gate, is formed by an 
immense Arabian arch of the horseshoe form, which springs 
to half the height of the tower. On the key-stone of this arch 
is engraven a gigantic hand. Within the vestibule, on the 
key-stone of the portal, is engi'aven, in like manner, a gigantic 
key. Those who pretend to some knowledge of Mahometan 
symbols, affirm, that the hand is the emblem of doctrine, and 
the key, of faith ; the latter, they add, was emblazoned on the 
standard of the Moslems when they subdued Andalusia, in op- 
position to the Christian emblem of the cross. A different ex- 
planation, however, was given by the legitimate ' ' son of the 
Aihambra," and one more in unison with the notions of the 
common people, who attach something of mystery and magic 
to everytliing Moorish, and have all Idnds of superstitions 
con-nected with this old Moslem fortress. 

According to Mateo, it was a tradition handed do'\vn from 
the oldest inhabita.nts, and which he had from his father and 
grandfather, that the hand and key were magical devices on 
which the fate of the Alha^mbra depended. The Moorish king 
who built it was a great magician, sisid, as some believed, had 
sold himself to the devil, and had laid the whole fortress under 
a magic spell. By this means ii Jiad remained standing for 



INTERIOR OF THE ALII A MRU A. 25 

everal hundred years, in defiance of storms and earthquakes, 
rhile ahnost all the other buihJings of the Moors had fallen to 
uin and disappeared. The spell, the tradition went on to say, 
''ould last until the hand on the outer arch should reach down 
tid grasp the key, when the whole pile wouid tumble to pieces, 
nd all the treasures buried beneath it by the Mooi-s would be 
Dvealed. 

Notwithstanding this ominous prediction, we ventured to 
ass through the spell-bound giiteway, feeling some little a^- 
n-ance against magic art in the protection of the Virgin, * 
latue of whom we observed above the portal. 
After passing through the Barbican, we ascended a narro\^ 
ne, winding between walls, and came on an open esplarade 
ithin the fortress, called the Plaza de los Algibes, or Place of 
le Cisterns, from great reservoirs Avhich undermine it, cut in 
le living rock by the Moors, for the supply of the fortress, 
ere, also, is a well of immense depth, furnishing the purest 
id coldest of water,— another monument of the delicate taste 
the Moors, who were indefatigable in their exertions to ob- 
in that element in its crystal purity. 

In front of this esplanade is the splendid pile, commenced by 
larles V., intended, it is said, to eclipse the residence of the 
Dslem kings. With all its grandeur and architectural merit, 
appeared to us like an arrogant intrusion, and passing by it 
p entered a simple unostentatious portal, opening into the in- 
rior of the Moorish palace. 

The transition was almost magical ; it seemed as if we were 
once transported into other times and another realm, and 
?re treading the scenes of Arabian story. We found our- 
ves in a great court paved with white marble and decorated 
each end with light Moorish peristyles. It is called the 
irt of the Alberca. In the centre was an immense basin, or 
h-pool, a hundred and thirty feet in length, by thirty in 
sadth, stocked with gold-fish, and bordered by hedges of 
es. At the upper end of this court, rose the great tower of 
mares. 

^'rom the lower end, we passed through a Moorish arch- way 
o the renowned Court of Lions. There is no part of the edi- 
5 that gives us a more complete idea of its original beauty 
i magnificence than this ; for none has suffered so little from 
> ravages of time. In the centre stands the fountain famous 
song and story. The alabaster basins still shed their dia 
nd drops, and the twelve lions which support them, cast 



2^ THE ALUAMBRA. 

forth their crystal streams as in the days of Boabdil. Th( 
court is laid out in flower beds, and surrounded by hglit Ara 
bian arcades of open filigree work, supported by slender pil 
lars of white marble. The architecture, like that of all th< 
other parts of the palace, is characterized by elegance, rathei 
than grandeur, bespeaking a deMcate and graceful taste, and i 
disposition to indolent enjoyment. When we look upon thj^ 
fairy tracery of the peristyles, and the apparently fragile fretf 
■work of the walls, it is difficult to believe that so much hai 
survived the wear and tear of centuries, the shocks of eartht 
quakes, the violence of war, and the quiet, though no less 
baneful, pilferings of the tasteful traveller. It is almost suASl 
cient to excuse the popular tradition, that the whole is prc( 
tected by a magic charm. 

On one side of the court, a portal richly adorned opens intt 
a lofty hall paved with white marble, and called the Hall d( 
the two Sisters. A cupola or lantern admits a tempered lighi 
from above, and a free circulation of air. The lower part g 
the walls is incrusted with beautiful Moorish tiles, on some g 
which are emblazoned the escutcheons of the Moorish moi) 
archs: the upper part is faced with the fine stucco work H} 
vented at Damascus, consisting of large plates cast in mouli 
and artfully joined, so as to have the appearance of haviii 
been laboriously sculptured by the hand into light rehevos ad 
fanciful arabesques, intermingled with texts of the Koran, aii 
poetical inscriptions in Arabian and Celtic characters. The^ 
decorations of the waUs and cupolas are richly gilded, and ttt 
interstices panelled with lapis lazuli and other briUiant and e^i 
during colours. On each side of the wall are recesses for ott(t 
mans and arches. Above an inner porch, is a balcony whiGt 
communicated with the women's apartment. The latticed ba|[ 
conies still remain, from whence the dark-eyed beauties of t|] 
harem might gaze unseen upon the entertainments of the hi 

below. 

It is impossible to contemplate this once favourite abode i 
Oriental manners, without feehng the early associations 
Arabian romance, and almost expecting to see the white adi 
of some mysterious princess beckoning from the balcony, | 
^ome dark eye sparkling through the lattice. The abode j 
beauty is here, as if it had been inhabited but yesterday— l i 
where are the Zoraydas and Linderaxas ! ' 

On the opposite side of the court of Lions, is the hall of l| 
Abencerrages, so called from the gallant cavaliers of tl| 



INTEUlOn OF THE ALHAMBRA. 27 

Qustrious line, who were here perfidiously massacred. There 
iVQ some who doubt the whole truth of this story, but our 
tumble attendant, Mateo, pointed out the very wicket of tlie 
mortal through which they are said to have been introduc(?d, 
ne by one, and the white marble fountain in the centre of t)io 
[all, where they were beheaded. He showed us also certain 
iroad ruddy stains in the pavement, traces of their blood, 
diich, according to popiUar belief, can never be effaced! 
binding we listened to him with easy faith, he added, tliat 
tiere was often heard at niglit, in the Court of the Lions, a 
^w confused sound, resembling the murmurings of a mul'ti- 
Lide; with now and then a faint tinkling, hke the distant 
lank of chains. These noises are probably producevl by the 
ubbhng currents and tinkling falls of water, conducted under 
le pavement througli pipes and channels to supply the foun- 
ims; but accordii.g to the legend of the son of the Alhambra, 
ley are made by the spirits of the murdered Abencerrages^ 
lio nightly haunt the scene of their suffering, and invoke the 
pngeance of Heaven on their destroyer. 

From the Court of Lions, we retraced our steps through the 
mrt of the Alberca, or great fish-pool, crossing which, we pro- 
dded to the tower of Comares, so caUed from the name of 
iQ Arabian architect. It is of massive strength, and lofty 
sight, domineering over the rest of the edifice, and overhang- 
ig the steep liiU-side, which descends abruptly to the banks of 
le Darro. A Moorish archway admitted us into a vast and 
tfty hall, which occupies the interior of the tower, and was 
le grand audience chamber of the Moslem monarchs, thence 
died tne hall of Ambassadors. It still bears the traces of 
ist magnificence. The walls are riclily stuccoed and dec- 
rated with arabesques, the vaulted ceilings of cedar wood 
most lost in obscurity from its height, stdl gleam with ricii 
Idmg and the brilhant tints of the Arabian pencil. On throe 
ies of the saloon are deep windows, cut through the im- 
lense thickness of the walls, the balconies of which look 
>wn upon the verdant vaUey of the Darro, the streets and 
nvents of the Albaycin, and command a prospect of the dis- 
nt Vega. 1 might go on to describe the other dehghtful 
•artments of this side of the palace; the Tocador or todet of 
e Queen, an open belvedere on the summit of the tower 
lere the Moorish sultanas enjoyed the pure breezes from the 
ountam and the prospect of the surrounding paradise. The 
eluded Httle patio or garden of Lindaraxa, with its alabaster 



28 THE ALnAMBUA. 

fountain, its thickets of roses and myrtles, of citrons ancil 
oranges. The cool halls and grottoes of the baths, where tl 
glare and heat of day are tempered into a self -mysterious light; 
and a pervading freshness. But I appear to dwell minutelyj; 
on these scenes. My object is merely to give the reader a gen| 
eral introduction into an abode, where, if disposed, he mayly 
linger and loiter with me through the remainder of this worki 
gradually becoming familiar with all its beauties. | 

An abundant supply of water, brought from the mountain^ 
by old Moorish aqueducts, circulates throughout the palace,? 
supplying its baths and fish-pools, sparkling in jets within it^i 
halls, or murmuring in channels along the marble pavements.! 
When it has paid its tribute to the royal pile, and visited its 
gardens and pastures, it flows down the long avenue leadin^,^ 
to the city, tinkling in rills, gushing in fountains, and main- 
taining a perpetual verdure in those groves that embower and 
beautify the whole hill of the Alhambra. 

Those, only, who have sojourned in the ardent cHmates oil 
the South, ca.n appreciate the delights of an abode combining 
the breezy coolness of the mountain with the freshness and 
verdure of the valley. 

While the city below pants with the noon-tide heat, and tm 
parched Vega trembles to the eye, the delicate airs from tm 
Sierra Nevada play through the lofty halls, bringing witBI 
them the sweetness of the surroundmg gardens. Every thing 
invites to that indolent repose, the bliss of Southern clim^esj 
and while the half -shut eye looks out from shaded balconie^ 
upon the glittering landscape, the ear is lulled by the rustling 
of groves, and the murmur of running streams. 



THE TOWER OF COMARES. 

The reader has had a sketch of the interior of the Alhambrg 
and may be desirous of a general idea of its vicinity. Th 
morning is serene and lovely; the sun has not gained suflf 
cient power to destroy the freshness of the night; we wil' 
mount to the sununit of the tower of Comares, and take \ 
bird's-eye view of Granada and its environs. 

Come, then, worthy reader and comrade, follow my ste} 
into this vestibule ornamented with rich tracery, which open, 
to the hall of Ambassadors. We will not enter the hall, ho^ 



THE TOWER OF CO MARES. 99 

ver, but turn to tlio loft, to tliis small door, opening in tho 
7n\\. Have a care! here are steep winding steps and but 
\^nty light. Yet, up this narrow, obscure and winding stair- 
so, tho proud nionarclis of Granada and thcdr queens have 
ften ascended to the battlements of the tower to watch the 
pproach of Christian armies; or to gaze on the battles in the 
oga. At length we are upon the terraced roof, and may take 
[•oath for a moment, while we cast a general eye over the 
)lendid panorama of city and country, of rocky mountain 
erdant valley and fertile plain; of castle, cathedral, Moorish 
^wers and Gothic domes, crumbhng ruins and blooming 
mves. 

Let us approach the battlements and cast our eyes imme- 
ately below. See,— on this side we have the whole plan of 
le AUiambra laid open to us, and can look down into its 
)urts and gardens. At the foot of the tower is the Court of 
iQ Alberca with its great tank or fish-pool bordered with 
)wors; and yonder is the Court of Lions, with its famous 
untain, and its light Moorish arcades; and in the centre of 
c pile is the little garden of Lindaraxa, buried in the heart 

the building, with its roses and citrons and shrubbery of 
rtorald green. 

That belt of battlements studded with square towers, strag- 
ing round the whole brow of the hill, is the outer boundary 
the fortress. Some of the towers, you may perceive, are in 
ms, and their massive fragments are buried among vines 
!:-trees and aloes. ' 

jLet us look on this northern side of the tower. It is a giddy 
Mght; the very foundations of the tower rise above the 
[oves of the steep hOl-side. And see, a long fissure in the 
assive walls shows that the tower has been rent by some of 
e earthquakes, which from time to time have thrown Grana- 

mto consternation; and which, sooner or later, must reduce 
IS cmmbling pile to a mere mass of ruin. The deep narrow 
)n below us, which gradually widens as it opens from the 
)imtains, is the valley of the Darro; you see the little river 
ndmg Its way under embowered terraces, and among or 
ards and flower gardens. It is a stream famous in old times 
[• yielding gold, and its sands are stiU sifted, occasionally, in 
irch of the precious ore. 

Some of those white pavilions which here and there gleam 
)m among groves and vineyards, were rustic retreats of the 
)ors, to enjoy the refreshment of their gardens. 



30 THE ALIJAMBllA. 

The airy palace with its tall white towers and long arcades 
which breast yon mountain, among pompous groves and hang 
ing gardens, is the Generalise, a summer palace of the Moor 
ish kings, to which they resorted during the sultry months 
to enjoy a still more breezy region than that of the Alhambra 
The naked summit of the height above it, where you behoLl 
some shapeless ruins, is the Silla del Moro, or seat of the Moori 
so called frora having been a retreat of the unfortunate Boatll 
dil, during the time of an insurrection, where he seated himse|\ 
and looked down mournfully upon his rebellious city. 

A murmuring sound of water now and then rises from thj] 
valley. It is from the aqueduct of yon Moorish mill nearly as 
the foot of the hill. The avenue of trees beyond, is the Ala 
meda along the bank of the Darro, a favourite resort in even 
ings, and a rendezvous of lovers in the summer nights, whe) 
the guitar may be heard at a late hour from the benches alon 
its walks. At present there are but a few loitering monks tt 
be seen there, and a group of water carriers from the fountai 
of Avellanos. 

You start ! 'Tis nothing but a hawk Ave have frightenec 
from his nest. This old tower is a complete brooding-place fo: 
vagrant birds. The swallow and martlet abound in ever; 
chink and cranny, and circle about it the whole day long, 
while at night, when all other birds have gone to rest, the moj 
ing owl comes out of its lurking place, and utters its bodin 
cry from the battlements. See how the hawk we have di{ 
lodged sweeps away below us, skimming over the tops of tbti 
trees, and sailing up to ruins above the G-eneraliife. | 

Let us leave this side of the tower and turn our eyes to tW 
west. Here you behold in the distance a range of mountaiiq 
bounding the Vega, the ancient barrier between Moslem Grani « 
da and the land of the Christians. Among the heights yc(i 
may still discern warrior towns, whose gray walls and battl 
monts seem of a piece with the rocks on which they are buil 
while here and there is a solitary atalaya or watch-tower 
mounted on some lofty point, and looking down as if it wer 
from the sky, into the valleys on either side. It was down thl 
defiles of these mountains, by the pass of Lope, that the Chrii 
tian armies descended into the Voga. It was round the ba? 
of yon gray and naked mountain, almost insulated from ttl 
rest, and stretching its bald rocky promontory into the boso: 
of the plain, that the invading squadrons would come burst: 
into view, with flaunting banners and the clangour of dr 



TlIK TOWKR OF COM ARES. 3X 

md trumpets. How changed is the scene! Instead of the 
flittering Hue of mailed warriors, we beliold the patient train 
>f the toilful muleteer, slowly moving along the skirts of the 
Qountain. 

Jjchind that promontory, is the eventful bridge of Pinos, 
enowned for many a bloody strife between Moors and Chris- 
iaiis ; but still more renowned as being the i^lace where Co- 
unil)us was overtaken and called back by the messenger of 
ue<^u Isabella, just as he was departing in despair to carry 
is project of discovery to the covu-t of France. 

Beliold another place famous in the history .of the discoverer: 
on line of walls and towers, gleaming in the moi'ning sun in 
lie very centre of the Vega; the city of Santa Fe, built by the 
atholic sovereigns during the siege of Granada, after a con- 
agration had destroyed their camp. It was to these walls 
tiat Columbus was called back by the heroic queen, and within 
lem the treaty was concluded that led to the discovery of the 
Vestern World. 

Here, towards the south, the eye revels on the luxuriant 
eauties of the Vega ; a blooming wilderness of grove and gar- 

n, and teeming orchards ; with the Xenil winding through 

in silver links and feeding innumerable rills, conducted 
irough ancient Moorish channels, which maintain the land- 

ape in perpetual verdure. Here are the beloved bowers and 
ardens, and rural retreats for v/hich the Moors fought with 
iicli desperate valour. The very farm-houses and hovels 
rtiich are now inhabited by the boors, retain traces of ara- 
esques and other tasteful decorations, which show them to 
lave been elegant residences in the days of the Moslems. 

Beyond the embowered region of the Vega you behold, to 
10 south, a line of arid hills down which a long train of mules 
slowly moving. It was from the summit of one of those 
ill 3 that the unfortunate Boabdil cast back his last look upon 
^ronada and gave vent to the agony of his soul. It is the spot 
biious in song and story, "The last sigh of the Moor." 

Now raise your eyes to the snoAvy summit of yon pile of 

ountains, shining like a white summer cloud on the blue sky. 

is the Sierra Nevada, the pride and delight of Granada ; the 
)urce of her cooling breezes and perpetual verdure, of her 
nshing fountains and perennial streams. It is this glorious 

le of mountains that gives to Granada that combination of 

lights so rare in a southern city. The fresh vegetation, and 
le temperate airs of a northern climate, with the vivifvinj? 



32 THE ALHAMBRA. 

ardour of a tropical sun, and the cloudless azure of a southern 
sky. It is this aerial treasury of snow, which, melting in 
l^roportion to the increase of the summer heat, sends down 
rivulets and streams through every glen and gorge of the Al 
puxarras, diffusing emerald verdure and fertility throughout a 
chain of happy and sequestered valleys. 

These mountains may well be called the glory of Granada. 
They dominate the whole extent of Andalusia, and may be ) 
seen from its most distant parts. The muleteer hails them as 
he viev7S their frosty peaks from the sultry level of the plain 
and the Spanish mariner on the deck of his bark, far, far off, 
on the bosom of the blue Mediterranean, watches them with 
pensive eye, thinks of delightful Granada, and chants in lo 
voice some old romance about the Moors. 

But enough, the sun is high above the mountains, and is 
pouring his full fervour upon our heads. Already the terracedj 
roof of the town is hot beneath our feet, let us abandon it, andjl 
descend and refresh ourselves under the arcades by the foun- 
tain of the Lions. 



)'» 



REFLECTIONS 

ON THE MOSLEM DOmNATION IN SPAIN. 

One of m7y^ favourite resorts is the balcony of the centr 
window of the Hall of Ambassadors, in the lofty tower ol 
Coniarcs. I have just been seated there, enjoying the close oi J 
a long brilliant day. The sun, as he sanlv behind the purple 
mountains of Alhama, sent a stream of effulgence up the val 
ley of the Darro, that spread a melancholy pomp over the 
ruddy towers of the Alhambra, while the Yega, covered witli 
a slight sultry vapour that caught the setting ray, seemedji 
spread out in the distance like a golden sea. Not a breath ol 
air disturbed the stillness of the hour, and though the fain| 
sound of music and merriment now and then arose from tH 
gardens of the Darro, it but rendered more impressive th| 
monumental silence of the pile which overshadowed me. It 
was one of those hours and scenes in which memory asserts a 
almost magical power, and, like the evening sun beaming 
those mouldering towers, sends back her retrospective rays 
lirrbt uo the firlories of the ra?t. 



al 



HEFLECTIONS. 33 

As I sat watching the effect of the declining dayhght upon 
his Moorish pile, I was led into a consideration of the hght, 
legant and voluptuous character prevalent throughout its 
ntemal architecture, and to contrast it Avith the grand but 
tloomy solemnity of the Gothic edifices, reared by the Spanish 
onquerors. The very architecture thus bespeaks the opposite 
ind irreconcilable natures of the two warhke people, who so 
[)ng battled here for the mastery of the Peninsula. By de- 
rees I fell mto a course of musing upon the singular features 
f the Ai'abian or Morisco Spaniards, whose whole existence is 
s a tale that is told, and certainly forms one of the most 
nomalous yet splendid episodes in history. Potent and dura- 
le as was theii' dominion, we have no one distinct title by 
hicli to designate them. They were a nation, as it were, 
ithout a legitimate country or a name. A remote wave of 
.le great Arabian inundation, cast upon the shores of Europe, 
ley seemed to have all the impetus of the first rush of the 
)rrent. Their course of conquest from the rock of Gibraltar 
) the cliffs of the Pyrenees, was as rapid and brilliant as the 
[oslem victories of Syria and Egypt. Nay, had they not 
3en checked on the plains of Tours, all France, all Europe, 
light have been overrun with the same facility as the empires 
the east, and the crescent might at this day have glittered 
1 the fanes of Paris and of London. 

Repelled within the limits of the Pyrenees, the mixed hordes 
Asia and Africa that formed this great irruption, gave up 
e Moslem principles of conquest, and sought to establish in 
)ain a peaceful and permanent dominion. As conquerors 
en* heroism was only equalled by their moderation ; and in 
)lh, for a time, they excelled the nations with whom they 
•ntended. Severed from their native homes, they loved the 
tid given them, as they supposed, by Allah, and strove to 
abelhsh it with everj^ tiling that could administer to the 
1 i ! liness of man. Laying the foundations of their power in 
;^ ;3tem of wise and equitable laws, diligently cultivating the 
ts and sciences, and promoting agriculture, manufactures 
d commerce, they gradually formed an emi3ire unrivalled 
r its prosperity, by any of the empii-es of Christendom ; and 
ligently drawing round them the graces and refinements 
it marked the Arabian empire in the east at the time of its 
?atest civilization, they diffused the hght of oriental know- 
igc through the western regions of benighted Europe. 
The cities of Arabian Si)ain became the resort of Christian 



34 THE ALHAMBRA. 

artisans, to instruct themselves in the useful arts. The uni^ 
versities of Toledo, Cordova, Seville, and Granada were sought 
by the pale student from other lands, to acquaint himself with 
the sciences of the Arabs, and the treasured lore of antiquity 5 
the lovers of the gay sciences resorted to Cordova and G-ra- 
nada, to imbibe the poetry and music of the east ; and the 
steel-clad warriors of the north hastened thither, to accom- 
plish themselves in the graceful exercises and courteous usages 
of chivalry. 

If the Moslem monuments in Spain ; if the Mosque of Cor- 
dova, the Alcazar of Seville and the Alhambra of Granada,!, 
stiU bear inscriptions fondly boastmg of the power and per 
manency of their domuiion, can the boast be derided as arrowy 
gant and vain? Generation after generation, century aften 
century had passed away, and stiU they maintained pos 
session of tlie land. A period had elapsed longer than thati 
which has passed since England was subjugated by the Nor- 
man conqueror ; and the descendants of Musa and Tarik migliti 
as httle anticipate being driven into exile, across the same 
straits traversed by their triumphant ancestors, as the def 
scendants of RoUo and William and their victorious peers majij 
dream of being driven back to the shores of Normandy. 

With aU this, however, the Moslem empire in Spain was but! 
a briUiant exotic that took no permanent root in the soil it emiii 
bellished. Severed from all their neighbours of the west byj 
impassable barriers of faith and manners, and separated hj) 
seas and deserts from their kindred of the east, they were ait 
isolated people. Their whole existence was a prol<3nged thougnl 
gallant and chivalric struggle for a foot-hold in a ^isurped landjl 
They were the outposts and frontiers of Islamisi^'q. The pen-i 
insula was the great battle ground where the ^3fothic con- 
querors of the north and the Moslem conquerors of the east,^ 
met and strove for mastery ; and the fiery courage of the Araljl 
was at length subdued by the obstinate and persevering valoui 
of the Goth. 

Never was the annihilation of a people more complete thad 
that of the Morisco Spaniards. Where are they? Ask th 
shores of Barbary and its desert places. The exilec\ remnan 
of their once powerful empire disappeared among the bars^ 
barians of Africa, and ceased to be a nation. They hi> ve nof 
even left a distinct name behind them, though for nearly cigh 
centuries they were a distinct people. The home of thei : 
adoption and of their occupation for ages refuses to acknow i 



^ THE UOUSKllOLD. 35 

ledgo them but as invaders and usurpers. A few broken 
monuments are all that remain to bear witness to their power 
and dominion, as solitary rocks left far in the interior bear 
testimony to the extent of some vast inundation. Such is the 
Alhambra. A Moslem pile in the midst of a Christian land ; 
m oriental palace amidst the Gothic edifices of the west ; an 
blegant memento of a bi'ave, intelligent and graceful people, 
who conquered, ruled, and passed away. 



THE HOUSEHOLD. 

It is time that I give some idea of my domestic arrangements 
in this singular residence. The royal palace of the Alhambra 
s intrusted to the care of a good old maiden dame called Dona 
Intonia Molina, but who, according to Spanish custom, goes 
)y the more neighbourly appellation of Tia Antonia (Aunt An- 
^onia). She maintains the Moorish halls and gardens in order, 
md shows them to strangers; in consideration of which, she is 
illowed all the perquisites received from visitors and all the 
)roduce of the gardens, excepting that she is expected to pay 
in occasional tribute of fruits and flowers to the governor. 
ler residence is in a corner of the palace, and her family con- 
ists of a nephew and niece, the children of two different broth- 
rs. The nephew, Manuel Molina, is a young man of sterling 
rorth and Spanish gravity. He has served in the armies botli 
1 Spain and the West Indies, but is now studymg medicine in 
opes of one day or other becoming physician to the for- 
ress, a post worth at least a hundred and forty dollars a year. 
lS to the niece, she is a plump little black-eyed Andalusian 
amsel named Dolores, but who from her bright looks and 
heerful disposition merits a merrier name. She is the declared 
eiress of all her aunt's possessions, consisting of certain min- 
us tenements in the fortress, yielding a revenue of about one 
undred and fifty dollars. I had not been long in the Alham- 
ra before I discovered that a quiet courtship was going on be- 
ween the discreet Manuel and his bright-eyed cousin, and that 
othing was Avanting to enable them to join their hands and 
xpectations, but that he should receive his doctor's diploma, 
nd purchase a dispensation from the pope, on accomit of their 
onsanguinity. 



36 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

With the good dame Antonia I have made a treaty, accord- 
ing to which, she furnishes me with board and lodging, while 
the merry -hearted little Dolores keeps my apartment in order 
and officiates as handmaid at meal times. I have also at my 
command a tall, stuttering, yellow-haired lad named Pepe,,, 
who works in the garden, and would fain have acted as valeti, 
but in this he was forestalled by Mateo Ximenes, " The son o|l 
the Alhambra." This alert and officious wight has managed,! 
somehow or other, to stick by me, ever since I first encounteredt 
him at the outer gate of the fortress, and to weave himself inti 
all my plans, until he has fairly appointed and installed him-i 
self my valet, cicerone, guide, guard, and historio-graphidt 
squire ; and I have been obhged to improve the state of lii^ 
wardrobe, that he may not disgrace his various functions, S0( 
that he has cast off his old brown mantle, as a snake does hii 
skin, and now figures about the fortress with a smart Andalu^ 
sian hat and jacket, to his infinite satisfaction and the great 
astonishment of his comrades. The chief fault of honest Mateo 
is an over-anxiety to be usefuJ. Conscious of having foisted 
himself into my employ, and that my simple and quiet habits 
render his situation a sinecure, he is at his wit's end to devise' 
modes of making himself important to my welfare. I am in a 
manner the victim of his officiousness ; I cannot put my foot 
over the threshold of the palace to stroll about the fortress, buti 
he is at my elbow to explain every thing I see, and if I venture 
to ramble among the surrounding hills, he insists upon attend- 
ing me as a guard, though I vehemently suspect he would bei 
more apt to trust to the length of his legs than the strength oli 
his arms in case of attack. After all, however, the poor felloe.!! 
is at times an amusing companion; he is simple-minded and obi 
infinite good humour, with the loquacity and gossip of a village <(! 
barber, and knows all the small talk of the place and its envi- fl 
rons ; but what ho chiefly values himself on is his stock of local 
information, having the most marvellous stories to relate olJar 
every tower, and vault and gateway of the fortress, in all oiSco 
which he places the most implicit faith. 

Most of these he has derived, according to his own account 
from his grandfather, a little legendary tailor, who lived to the 
age of nearly a hundred years, during which he made but tw( 
migTations beyond the precincts of the fortress. His shop, to% 
the greater part of a century, was the resort of a knot of vener*'jeii 
able gossips, where they would pass half the night talking abod 
old times and the wonderful events and hidden secrets of thelij 



THE UOUSEHOLD. 37 

)lace. The whole li\ang, moving, thinking and acting of this 
ittle historical tailor, had thus been bounded by the walls of 
the Alhambra ; within them he had been born, within them he 
ived, breathed and Ixid his being, Avithin them he died and 
iA^as buried. Fortunately for posterity his traditionary lore 
lied not with him. The authentic Mateo, when an urchin, 
ised to be an attentive listener to the narratives of his grand- 
ather and of the gossip group assembled round the shop board, 
Lnd is thus possessed of a stock of valuable knowledge concem- 
Qg the Alhambra, not to be found in the books, and well 
worthy the attention of every curious traveller. 

Such are the personages that contribute to my domestic com- 
orts in the Alhambra, and I question whether any of the po- 
entates, Moslem or Christian, who have preceded me in the 
►alace, have been waited upon with greater fidelity or enjoyed 

serener swoy. 

When I rise in the morning, Pepe, the stuttering lad, from 
he gardens, brings me a tribute of fresh culled flowers, wliich 
,re afterwards arranged in vases by the skilful hand of Dolores, 

ho takes no small pride in the decorations of my chamber. 
ly meals are made wherever caprice dictates, sometimes in 
ne of the Moorish halls, sometimes under the arcades ot the 
/Ourt of Lions, surrounded by flowers and fountains; and 
^hen I walk out I am conducted by the assiduous Mateo to the 
lost romantic retreats of the mountains and delicious haunts 
f the adjacent valleys, not one of which but is the scene of 
ome wonderful tale. 

Though fond of passing the greater part of my day alone, yet 
occasionally repair in the evenings to the little domestic cir- 

e of Doiia Antonia. This is generally held in an old Moorish 
bamber, that serves for kitchen as well as hall, a rude fire- 
lace having been made in one corner, the smoke from which 
as discoloured the walls and almost obliterated the ancient 
pabesques. A window with a balcony overhanging the bal- 
my of the Darro, lets in the cool evening breeze, and here I 
ike my frugal supper of fruit and milk, and mingle with the 
Dnversation of the family. There is a natural talent, or mother 
it, as it is called, about the Spaniards, which renders them 
itellectual and agreeable companions, whatever may be their 
audition in life, or however imperfect may have been their 
iucation ; add to this, they are never vulgar ; nature has en- 
owed them with an inherent dignity of spirit. The good Tia 
ntonia is a woman of strong and intelligent, though unculti- 



38 ' TUB ALUAMBRA. 

vated mind, and the bright-eyed Dolores, though she has read 
but three or four books in the whole course of her life, has an 
engaging mixture of naivete and good sense, and often sur- 
prises me by the pungency of her artless sallies. Sometimes 
the nephew entertains us by reading some old comedy of Cal- 
deron or Lope de Vega, to which he is evidently prompted by . 
a desire to improve as well as amuse his cousin Dolores, though 
to his great mortification the little damsel generally falls asleep | 
before the first act is completed. Sometimes Tia Antonia has 
a httle bevy of humble friends and dependants, the inhabitants i 
of the adjacent hamlet, or the wives of the invalid soldiers. 
These look up to her with great deference as the custodian of 
the palace, and pay their court to her by bringing the news of 
the place, or the rumours that may have straggled up from 
Granada. In listening to the evening gossipings, I have picked 
up many curious facts, illustrative of the manners of the people 
and the peculiarities of the neighbourhood. 

These are simple details of simple pleasures ; it is the nature 
of the place alone that gives them interest and importance. I 
tread haunted ground and am surrounded by romantic asso- 
ciations. From earliest boyhood, when, on the banks of the 
Hudson, I first pored over the pages of an old Spanish story 
about the wars of Granada, that city has ever been a subject 
of my waking dreams, and often have I trod in fancy the 
romantic halls of the Alhambra. Behold for once a day-dream 
realized ; yet I can scarcely credit my senses or believe that I 
do indeed inhabit the palace of Boabdil, and look down from 
its balconies upon chivalric Granada. As I loiter through the 
oriental chambers, and hear the murmuring of fountains and 
the song of the nightingale : as I inhale the odour of the rose 
and feel the influence of the balmy climate, I am almost 
tempted to fancy myself in the Paradise of Mahomet, and that 
the plump little Dolores is one of the bright-eyed Houris, des- 
tined to administer to the happiness of true behevers. 



THE TRUANT. 



Since writing the foregoing pages, we have had a scene of 
petty tribulation in the Alhambra which has thrown a cloud 
over the sunny countenance of Dolores. This little damsel has 



THE TRUAM\ 39 

1. male passion for pets of all kinds, from the superabundant 
iiuliicss of her disposition. One of the ruined courts of the 
Jhambra is thronged with her favourites. A stately peacock 
[nd his hen seem to hold regal sway here, over pompous tur- 
ieys, querulous guinea fowls, and a rabble rout of common 
bcks and hens. The great delight of Dolores, hoAvever, has 
br some time past been centred in a youthful pair of pigeons, 
Vho hav^e lately entered into the holy state of wedlock, and 
^ho have even supplanted a tortoise shell cat and kitten in her 
ffections. 

, As a tenement for them to commence housekeeping she had 
tted up a small chamber adjacent to the kitchen, the window 
i which looked into one of the quiet Moorish courts. Here 
ley lived in happy ignorance of any world beyond the court 
nd its sunny roofs. In vain they aspired to soar above the 
attlements, or to mount to the summit of the towers. Their 
irtuous union was at length crowned by two spotless and 
lilk white eggs, to the great joy of their cherishing little mis- 
^ess. Nothing could be more praiseworthy than the conduct 
f the young married folks on this interesting occasion. They 
)ok turns to sit upon the nest until the eggs were hatched, 
Qd while their callow progeny required warmth and shelter. 
iThile one thus stayed at home, the other foraged abroad for 
)od, and brought home abundant supplies. 
This scene of conjugal felicity has suddenly met with a re- 
erse. Early this morning, as Dolores was feeding the male 
igeon, she took a fancy to give him a peep at the great world, 
pening a window, therefore, which looks down upon the val- 
y of the Darro, she launched him at once beyond the walls of 
le Alhambra. For the first time in his life the astonished 
Ird had to try the full vigour of his wings. He swept down'* 
ito the valley, and then rising upwards with a surge, soared> 
[most to the clouds. Never before had he risen to such a 
eight or experienced such delight in flying, and like a young 
)endthrift, just come to his estate, he seemed giddy with 
ccess of liberty, and with the boundless field of action sud- 
Bnly opened to him. For the whole day he has been circling 
X)ut in capricious flights, from tower to tower and from tree 
) tree. Every attempt has been made in vain to lure him 
ick, by scattering grain upon the roofs ; he seems to have lost 
1 thought of home, of his tender helpmate and his callow 
oung. To add to the anxiety of Dolores, he has been joined 
J two palomas ladrones, or robber pigeons, whose instinct it 



40 THE ALII AM BR A. 

is to entice wandering pigeons to their own dove-cotes. Th< 
fugitive, like many other thoughtless youths on their firs 
launcliing upon the world, seems quite fascinated with thes» 
knowing, but graceless, companions, who have undertaken t( 
show him life and introduce hun to society. He has beei 
soaring with them over all the roofs and steeples of Granada 
A thunder shower has passed over the city, but he has no 
sought his home; night has closed in, and still he comes not 
To deepen the pathos of the affair, the female pigeon, afte: 
remaining several hours on the nest without being relieved, a 
length went forth to seek her recreant mate ; but stayed awa;* 
so long that the young ones perished for want of the warmtl 
and shelter of the parent bosom. 

At a late hour in the evening, word was brought to Dolorei 
that the truant bird had been seen upon the towers of the Gen 
eraliffe. Now, it so happens that the Administrador of tha 
ancient palace has hkewise a dove-cote, among the inmates o 
which are said to be two or three of these inveighng birds, thi 
terror of all neighbouring pigeon fanciers. Dolores immedi 
ately concluded that the two feathered sharpers who had beei 
seen with her fugitive, were these bloods of the Generahffe. A 
council of war was forthwith held in the chamber of Tia An 
tonia. The Generahffe is a distinct jurisdiction from tb 
Alhambra, and of course some punctilio, if not jealousy, existi 
between their custodians. It was determined, therefore, t( 
send Pepe, the stuttering lad of the gardens, as ambassador t( 
the Administrador, requesting that if such fugitive should b< 
found in his dominions, he might be given up as a subject o 
the Alhambra. Pepe departed, accordingly, on his diplomatid 
expedition, through the moonlit groves and avenues, bu 
returned in an hour with the afflicting intelligence that n< 
raich bird was to be found in the dove-cote of the Generahffe 
The Administrador, however, pledged his sovereign word, tha 
if such vagrant should appear there, even at midnight, b 
should instantly be arrested and sent back prisoner to his littL 
black-eyed mistress. 

Thus stands this melancholy affair, which has occasionec 
much distress throughout the palace, and has sent the incon 
solable Dolores to a sleepless pillow. 

" Sorrow endureth for a night," says the proverb, "but jo^ 
ariseth in the morning." The first object that met my eyes or 
leaving my room this morning was Dolores with the truani 
pigeon in her hand, and her eyes sparkling with joy. He hac 



TlIK AUTIIOIVS CHAMBER 



41. 



appeared at an early hour on the battlements, liovering sliyly 
about from roof to rooi", but at lengtli entered the window and 
surrendered himself prisoner. He gained little credit, how- 
ever, by his return, for the ravenous manner in which he 
devoured the food set before him, showed that, like the prodi- 
gal son, he had been driven home by sheer famine. Dolores 
pbraided him for his faithless conduct, calling him all manner 
f vagrant names, though woman-like, she fondled him at the 
e time to her bosom and covered him with kisses. I ob- 
rved, however, that she had taken care to clip his wings to 
revent all future soarings; a precaution which I mention for 
he benefit of all those who have truant Avives or wandering 
husbands. More than one valuable moral might be drawn 
"rom the story of Dolores and her pigeon. 



THE AUTHOR'S CHAMBER. 

On taking up my abode in the Alhambra, one end of a suite 
>f empty chambers of modern architecture, intended for the 
esidence of the governor, was fitted up for my reception. It 
VBS. in front of the palace, looking forth upon the esplanade. 
["he farther end communiated with a cluster of little chambers, 
•artly Moorish, partly modern, inhabited by Tia Antonia and 
er iamily. These terminated in a large room which serves 
he good old dame for parlour, kitchen, and hall of audience. 
t had boasted of some splendour in the time of the Moors, but 

lire-place had been built in one corner, the smoke from which 
ad discoloured the walls, nearly obliterated the ornaments, 
nd spread a sombre tint over the whole. From these gloomy 
partments, a narrow blind corridor and a dark winding 
taircase led down an angle of the tower of Comares; groping 
own which, and opening a small door at the bottom, you are 
iiddenly dazzled by emerging into the brilliant antechamber 
' the hall of ambassadors, with the fountain of the court of 
he Alberca sparkling before you. 

I was dissatisfied with being lodged in a modern and frontier 
partment of the palace, and longed to ensconce myself in the 
eiy heart of the building. 

As I was rambling one day about the Moorish halls, I found, 
I a remote gallery, a door v/hich I had not before noticed, 



42 THE ALRAMBBA. 1 

communicating apparently with an extensive apartment, 
locked up from the public. Here then was a mystery. Here 
was the haunted wing of the castle. I procured the key, how- 
ever, without difficulty. The door opened to a range of vacant 
chambers of European architecture; though built over a 
Moorish arcade, along the httle garden of Lindaraxa. There 
were two lofty rooms, the ceilings of which were of deep panel- 
work of cedar, richly and skilfully carved with fruits andi 
flowers, intermingled with grotesque masks or faces; butt 
broken in many places. The walls had evidently, in ancient t 
times, been hung with damask, but were now naked, andl 
scrawled over with the insignificant names of aspiring travel- 
lers ; the wmdows, which were dismantled and open to wind] 
and weather, looked into the garden of Lindaraxa, and the^ 
orange and citron trees flung their branches into the chambers.,! 
Beyond these rooms were two saloons, less lofty, looking alsoh 
into the garden. In the compartments of the panelled ceilingi^ 
were baskets of fruit and garlands of flowers, painted by nc^ 
mean hand, atrd in tolerable preservation. The walls had alsoli 
been painted in fresco in the Italian style, but the paintings^ 
were nearly oDiiterated. The mndows were in the samd*^ 
shattered state as in the other chambers. 

This fanciful suite of rooms terminated in an open galleryv 
with balustrades, which ran at right angles along another sidei, 
of the garden. The whole apartment had a delicacy andd 
elegance in its decorations and there was something so choice'. 
and sequestered in its situation, along this retired little garden,! 
that awakened an interest in its history. I found, on inquiry,, 
that it was an apartment fitted up by Italian artists, in th( 
early part of the last century, at the time when Phihp V. anc 
the beautiful Elizabetta of Parma were expect'id at th€ 
Alhambra; and was destined for the queen and the ladies o| 
her train. One of the loftiest chambers had been her sleepii 
room, and a narrow stairca,se leading from it, though no^ 
walled up, opened to the delightful belvedere, originally 
mirador of the Moorish sultanas, but fitted up as a boudoir for; 
the fair Elizabetta, and which still retains the name of thei 
Tocador, or toilette of the queen. The sleeping room I havei 
mentioned, commanded from one window a prospect of the* 
Generaliffe, and its embowered terraces; under another win-;! 
dow played the alabaster fountain of the garden of Lindaraxa^i 
That garden carried my thoughts still farther back, to th^' 
I)eriod of another reign of bcaut:^ ; to the days of the Moorish! 



I THE AUTI10U\S CHAMBER 43 

ultanas. "How beauteous is this garden!" says an Arabic 
iscription, " where the flowers of the earth vie with the stars 
i heaven! what can compare with the vase of you alabaster 
ountain filled with crystal water? Nothing but the moon in 
jier fulness, shining in the midst of an unclouded sky!" 
^Centuries had elapsed, yet how much of this scene of appa- 
sntly fragile beauty remained ! The garden of Lindaraxa was 
bill adorned with flowers; the fountain still presented its 
rystal mirror: it is true, the alabaster had lost it..^ whiteness, 
nd the basin beneath, overrun with weeds, had become the 
bstlmg place of the hzard; but there was something in the 
iery decay that enhanced the interest of the scene, speaking, 
s it did, of that mutability which is the irrevocable lot of man 
ad aU his works. The desolation, too, of these chambers, once 
le abode of the proud and elegant Elizabetta, had a more 
)uchmg charm for me than if I had beheld them in their 
pistine splendour, glittering with the pageantry of a court— I 
Jtermined at once to take up my quarters in tliis apartment. 
My determination excited great surprise in the family; who 
)iild not imagine any rational inducement for the choice of 
> solitary, remote and i 3 lorn an apartment. The good Tia 
ntonia considered it highly dangerous. The neighbourhood, 
10 said, was infested by vagrants ; the caverns of the adjacent 
Us swarmed with gipsies; the palace was ruinous and easy 
I be entered in many parts; and the rumour of a stranger 
lartered alone in one of the ruined apartments, out of the 
taring of the rest of the inhabitants, might tempt unwelcome 
sitors in the night, especially as foreigners are always sup- 
ped to be well stocked with money. Dolores represented tlie 
ightful loneliness of the place; nothing but bats and owls 
tting about; then there were a fox and a wild cat that kept 
)Out the vaults a,nd roamed about at nis-ht. 
I was not to be diverted from my humour, so calling in 
e assistance of a carpenter, and the ever officious Mateo 
imenes, the doors and windows were soon placed in a state 
tolerable security. 

With all these precautions, I must confess the first night I 
LSSed in these quarters was inexpressibly dreary. I was 
corted by the whole family to my ch'^niber, and there taking 
ive of me, and retiring along the waste antechamber and 
hoing galleries, reminded me of those hobgoblin stories, 
lere the hero is left to accomplish the adventure of a 
,unted house. 



44 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Soon the thoughts of the fair Ehzabetta and the beauties of 
her court, who had once graced these chambers, now by a per- 
version of fancy added to the gloom. Here was the scene of 
their transient gaiety and lovehness ; here were the very traces 
of their elegance and enjoyment; but what and where were 
they?— Dust and ashes! tenants of the tomb! phantoms of tb' 
memory ! 

A vague and indescribable awe was creeping over me. 1] 
would fain have ascribed it to the thoughts of robbers, awakened (j 
by the evenmg's conversation, but I felt that it was somethingsl 
more unusual and absurd. In a word, the long buried impres- 
sions of the nursery were reviving and asserting their power 
over my imagination. Every thing began to be affected by 
the workings of my mind. The whispering of the wind among) 
the citron trees beneath my window had someching" sinister. 1 i 
cast my eyes into the garden of Lindaraxa ; the groves present- 
ed a gulf of shadows ; the thickets had indistinct and ghastly 
shapes. I was glad to close the window ; but my chamber it- 
self became infected. A bat had found its way in, and flitted 
about my head and athwart my solitary lamp ; the grotesque 
faces carved in the cedar ceiling seemed to mope and mow at 
me. ] 

Rousing myself, and halt smiling at this temporary weal^ 
ness, I resolved to brave it, and, taking lamp in hand, saUied^ 
forth to make a tour of the ancient palace. Notwithstanding! 
every mental exertion, the task was a severe one. The rayj 
of my lamp extended to but a limited distance around me; 1 
walked as it were in a mere halo of light, and all beyondi 
was thick darkness. The vaulted coriidors were as cavernse 
the vaults of the halls were lost in gloom; what unseen foo 
might not be lurking before or behind me; my own shado^^ 
playing about the walls, and the echoes of my own footstepji 
disturbed me. ' \ 

In this excited state, as I was traversing the great Hall oi 
Ambassadors, there were added real sounds to these conjectura 
fancies. Low moans and indistinct ejaculations seemed to ris( 
as it were from beneath my feet ; I paused and listened. Thej 
then appeared to resound from without the tower. Sometimes 
they resembled the bowlings of an animal, at others they wer<^' 
stifled shrieks, mingled with articulate ravings. The thrilling 
effect of these sounds in that stiU hour and singular place, dq: 
stroyed all inclination to continue my lonely perambulatioif 
I returned to my chamber v/ith more alacrity than I had saUi^) 



J 



THE ALIIAMBUA BY MOONLIGHT. 45 

prth, and drew my breath more freely when once more within 
IS walls, and the door bolted behind me. 

When I awoke in the morning, with the sun shining in at my 
indow, and lighting up every part of the building with its 
lieerful and truth-telling beams, I could scarcely recall the 
liadows and fancies conjured up by the gloom of the preceding 
ight ; or believe that the scenes around me, so naked and ap- 
arent, could have been clothed with such imaginary horrors. 
Still the dismal bowlings and ejaculations I had heard were 
ot ideal ; but they were soon accounted for, by my handmaid 
)olores ; being the ravings of a poor maniac, a brother of her 
unt, who was subject to violent paroxysms, during which he 
as confined in a vaulted room beneath the Hall of Ambas- 
idors. 



THE ALHAMBRA BY MOONLIGHT. 

I HAVE given a picture of my apartment on my first taking 
ossession of it; a few evenings have produced a thorough 
tiange in the scene and in my feelings. The moon, which then 
as invisible, has gradually gained upon the nights, and now 
^Us in fidl splendour above the towers, pouring a flood o£ 
jmpered hght into every court and hall. The garden beneath 
ly window is gently lighted up; the orange and citron trees 
re tipped with silver; the fountain sparkles in the moon 
earns, and even the blush of the rose is faintly visible. 
I have sat for hours at my window inliahng the sweetness of 
le garden, and musmg on the chequered features of those 
hose history is dimly shadowed out in the elegant memorials 
round. Sometimes I have issued forth at midnight when every 
ling was quiet, and have wandered over tlie whole building. 
Hio can do justice to a nioonhght night in such a clunate, 
^ d in such a place ! The temperature of an Andalusian mid- 
ight, in summer, is perfectly ethereal. We seem lifted up 
ito a purer atmosphere ; there is a serenity of soul, a buoyancy 
spirits, an elasticity of frame that render mere existence 
ijoyment. The effect of moonlight, too, on the Aliiambra has 
)mething like enchantment. Every rent and chasm of time, 
7ery mouldering tint and weather stain disappears ; the mar- 
e resumes its original v/hiteness ; the long colonnades brighten 
ithe moonbeams: the halls are illuminated with a softened 



46 TUE ALHAMBRA. 

radiance, until the wliole edifice reminds one of the enchante(3 
palace oi an Arabian tale. 

At such time I have ascended to the little pavilion, called th( 
Queen's Toilette, to enjoy its varied and extensive prospect 
To the right, the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada woulc 
gleam like silver clouds against the darker firmament, and al I 
the outlines of the mountain would be softened, yet dehcatelj 
denned. My dehght, however, would be to lean over the para 
pet of the tocador, and gaze down upon Granada, spread ou 
like a map below me : all buried in deep repose, and its whit( 
palaces and convents sleeping as it were m the moonshine. 

Sometunes I would hear the faint sounds of castanets fron 
some party of dancers hngering in the Alameda ; at other timei 
I have heard the dubious tones of a guitar, and the notes of ; 
single voice rising from some sohtary street, and have picturec 
to myself some youthful cavalier serenading his lady's window 
a gallant custom of former days, but now sadly on the declin 
except in the remote towns and villages of Spain. 

Such are the scenes that have detained me for many an hou 
loitermg about the courts and balconies of the castle, enjoyinj 
that mixture of reverie and sensation which steal away exist 
ence in a southern climate — and it has been almost morning b€ 
fore I have retired to my bed. and been lulled to sleep by th 
ialhng waters of the fountain of Lindaraxa. 



INHABITANTS OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

ii 

i I HAVE often observed that the more proudly a mansion ha 

been tenanted in the day of its prosperity, the humbler are it 

inhabitants in the day of its dechne, and that the palace of th 

king commonly ends in being the nestling place of the beggar, 

The Alhambra is in a rapid state of similar transitior 
whenever a tower falls to decay, it is seized upon by som 
tatterdemalion family, who become joint tenants with th 
bats and owls of its gilded halls, and hang their rags, thos 
standards of poverty, out of its v/indows and loop-holes. 

I have amused myself with remarking some of the motlo 
characters that have thus usurped the ancient abode c 
royalty, and who seem as if placed here to give a fp.rcicf 
termination to the drama of human pride. One of thes 



INHABITANTS OB' THE ALIIAMBIIA. 47 

even bears the mockery of a royal title. It is a little old 
woman named Maria Antonia Sabonea, but who goes by 
the appellation of la Reyna Cuquina, or the cockle queeii. 
She is small enough to be a fairy, and a fairy she may be 
for aught I can find out, for no one seems to know her 
origin. Her habitation is a kind of closet under the outer 
staircase of the palace, and she sits in the cool stone corri- 
dor plying her needle and singing from morning till night, 
svith a ready joke for every one that passes, for though 
ipne of the poorest, she is one of the merriest little women 
jDreathing. Her great merit is a gift for story-telhng ; having, 
I verily believe, as many stories at her command as the inex- 
haustible Scheherezade of the thousand and one nights. Some 
pf these I have heard her relate in the evening tertulias of 
Ooila Antonia, at which she is occasionally an humble attend- 
ant. 

That there must be some fairy gift about this mysterious 
ittle old woman, would appear from her extraordinary luck, 
dnce, notwithstanding her being very little, very ugly, and 
.cry poor, she has had, according to her own account, five 
uislxands and a half; reckoning as a half, one, a young 
Iragoon who died during courtship. 

rS. rival personage to this little fairy queen is a portly old 
ollow with a bottle nose, who goes about in a rusty garb, 
vith a cocked hat of oil skin and a red cockade. He is one of 
he legitimate sons of the Alhambra, and has lived here all 
lis life, filling various offices ; such as Deputy Alguazil, sexton 
>f the parochial church, and marker of a fives court estab- 
ished at the foot of one of the towers. He is as poor as a rat, 
>ut as proud as he is ragged, boasting of his descent from the 
[lustrious house of Aguilar, from which sprang Gonsalvo of 
/ordova, the Grand Captain. Nay, he actually bears the name 
f Alonzo de Agiiilar, so renowned in the history of the eon- 
[uest, though the graceless wags of the fortress have given 
tiim the title of el Padre Santo, or the Holy Father, the usual 
Ippellation of the pope, wbicli I had thought too sacred in the 
yes of true cathohcs to be thus ludicrously applied. It is a 
krhimsical caprice of fortune, to present in the gTotesque 
[•erson of this tatterdemalion a namesake and descendant 
|f the proud Alonzo de Aguilar, the mirror of Andalusian 
ftiivalry, leading an almost mendicant existence about this 
jnce haughty fortress, Avliich his ancestor aided to reduce; 
ret such might have been the lot of the descendants of Aga- 



48 THE ALIIAMBRA, 

meninon and Achilles, had they lingered about the ruins of;*; 
Troy. j 

Of this motley community I find the family of my gossiping^- 
squire Mateo Ximenes to form, from their numbers at least, ai 
very important part. His boast of being a son of the Alhambra 
is not unfounded. This family has inhabited the fortress evei 
since the time of the conquest, handing down a hereditary 
poverty from father to son, not one of them having ever been 
known to be worth a marevedi. His father, by trade a riband 
weaver, and who succeeded the historical tailor as the head oft 
the family, is now near seventy years of age, and lives in q,y 
hovel of reeds and plaster, built by his own hands, just above, 
the iron gate. The furniture consists of a crazy bed, a table, 
an^. two or three chairs; a wooden chest, containing his 
clothes, and the archives of his family; that is to say, a 
few papers concerning old law-suits which he ca,nnot read; 
but the pride of his heart is a bla^zon of the arms of the family, 
brilliantly coloured and suspended in a frame against the wall, 
clearly demonstrating by its quarterings the various noble 
houses with which this poverty-stricken brood claim affinity. 

As to Mateo himself, he has done his utmost to perpetuate 
his line ; having a wife, and a numerous progeny who inhabit 
an almost dismantled hovel in the hamlet. How they manage 
to subsist, He only who sees into all mysteries can tell — the 
subsistence of a Spanish family of the kind is always a riddle 
to me ; yet they do subsist, and, what is more, appear to enjoy 
their existence. The wife takes her holyday stroll in the Paseoi 
of Granada, with a child in her arms, and half a dozen at hen 
heels, and the eldest daughter, now verging into womanliood,i 
dresses her hair with flowers, and dances gaily to the cas-^ 
tanets. 

There are two classes of people to whom life seems one long 
holyday, the very rich and the very poor; one because tliey 
need do nothing, the other because they have nothing to do;i 
but there are none who understand the art of doing nothing 
and living upon nothing better than the poor classes of Spavin.' 
Climate does one half and temperament the rest. Give a i 
Spaniard the shade in summer, and the sun in winter, a little i 
bread, garhc, oil and garbanzos, an old bro^vn cloak and g 
guitar, and let the woi'ld roll on as it pleases. Talk of poverty, 
with him it has no disgrace. It sits upon him with a gran 
dioso style, like his ragged cloak. He is a hidalgo even when 
in rags. 



THE BALCONY. ^^ 

The -Sons of the .Vlhambra" are an eminent iUustration of 
■im practical philoso]>hy. As the Moors imagined that tlie 
celestial paradise hung over this favoured spot, so I am in 
Jhned, at times, to fancy that a gleam of the golden aL^e still 
ingers about this ragged community. They possess nothing 
ihey do nothmg, they care for nothing. Yet, though an 
I)arently idle all the week, they are as observant of all holv- 
lays and saints' days as the most laborious artisan Thev 
^ttend all fetes and dancings in Granada and its vicinitv 
ight bon-fires on the hills on St. John's eve, and have lately 
lanced away the moonlight nights, on the harvest home of 
f small field of wheat within the precincts of the fortress 
I Before concluding these remarks I must mention one of the 
tomsements of the place which has particularly struck me I 
tad repeatedly observed a long, lean feUow perched on the top 
t one of the towers manoeuvring two or three fishing rods as 
lough he was anghng for the stars. I was for some time per- 
iexed by the evolutions of tins aerial fisherman, and my per- 
exity increased on observing others employed in like manner 
I different parts of the battlements and bastions; it was noi 
rtil I consulted Mateo Xunenes that I solved the mystery 
It seems that the pure and airy situation of this fortress has 
ndered It, hke the castle of Macbeth, a prolific breeding-place 
pp swaUows and martlets, who sport about its towers in 
^riads with the holyday glee of urchins just let loose 
Zl"^l\ >'/^*'.lP '^^^^ ^^^'^'^ ^^ *^^^ giddy ---chngs! 
tents of the ragged "Sons of the Alhambra," who, with the 
j^d-for-nothing mgenuity of arrant idlers, have thus invented 
le art of angling m the sky. 



THE BALCONY. 

[N the Hall of Ambassadors, at the cer^tral window, there is 
»alcony of which I have already made mention. It projects 
e a cage from the face of the tower, high in mid-air, above 
^ tops o. the trees that grow on the steep hill-side. It an- 
ers me as a kind of observatory, where I often take my seat 

rr^^^T^ ''^* "'^""^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^^'-"^ ^""^^^ ^^it the -earth 
leath. Beside the magnificent prospect which it commands 
mountam, vaUey, and Vega, there is a busy httle scene of 



50 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

human life laid open to inspection immediately below. At th< 
foot of the liill is an alameda or pubhc walk, which, though no 
so fashionable as the more modern and splendid paseo of th( 
Xenil, still boasts a varied and pictm-esque concourse, especiall: 
on holydays and Sundays. Hither resort the small gentry o 
the suburbs, together with priests and friars who walk for appe 
titeand digestion; majos and majas, the beaux and belles of thi 
flower classes in their Andalusian dresses; swagging contrabaiii 
distas, and sometimes half -muffled and mysterious loungers qc 
the higher ranks, on some silent assignation. .J 

It is a moving picture of Spanish life which I delight i 
study ; and as the naturalist has his microscope to assist hi^ 
in his curious investigations, so I have a small pocket telescopf 
which brings the countenances of the motley groups so close a 
almost at times to make me think I can divine their converse 
tion by the play and expression of their features. I am thut 
in a mamier, an invisible observer, and without quitting m 
solitude, can throw myself in an instant into the midst c 
society— a rare advantage to one of somewhat shy and qui€ 
habits. 

Then there is a considerable suburb lying below the Alhan 
bra, filling the narrow gorge of the valley, and extending u 
the opposite hill of the Albaycin. Many of the houses ai 
built in the Moorish style, round patios or courts cooled b 
fountains and open to the sky; and as the inhabitants pas 
much of their time in these courts and on the terraced rooi 
during the summer season, it follows that many a glance i 
their domestic life may be obtained by an aerial spectator Uti 
myself, who can look down on them from the clouds. 

I enjoy, m some degree, the advantages of the student in tl 
famous old Spanish story, who beheld all Madrid unroofed f( 
his inspection ; and my gossipping squire Mateo Ximenes ofl 
ciates occasionally as my Asmodeus, to give me anecdotes < 
the different mansions and their inhabitants. 

I prefer, however, to form conjectural histories for mysel 
and thus can sit up aloft for hours, weaving from casual in< 
dents and indications that pass under my eye, the whole tissi 
of schemes, mtrigiies and occupations, carrying on by certa 
of the busy mortals below us. There is scarce a pretty face 
striking figure that I daily see, about which I have not th ; 
gradually framed a dramatic story; though some of n 
characters will occassionally act in direct opposition to t 
part assigned them, and disconcert my whole drama^ 



.1 



THE BALCONY. 51 

A few days since as I was reconnoitring with my glass the 
streets of the Albaycin, I beheld the procession of a novice 
about to tA:2 the veil; and remarked various circimastances 
that excitod the strongest sympathy in the fate of the youth- 
ful being thus about to be consigned to a living tomb. I ascer- 
tained, to my satisfaction, that she was beautiful ; and, by the 
paleness of her cheek, that she was a victim, rather than a 
votary. She was arrayed in bridal garments, and decked 
with a chaplet of white flowers ; but her heai-t evidently re- 
volted at this mockery of a spiritual union, and yearned after 
its earthly loves. A tall stern-looking man walked near her 
in the procession ; it was evidently the tyrannical f atlier, who, 
from some bigoted or sordid motive, had compelled this sacrifice. 
Amidst the crowd was a dark, handsome youth, in Andalusian 
garb, who seemed to fix on her an eye of agony. It was doubt- 
less the secret lover from whom she was for ever to be sepa- 
rated. My indignation rose as I noted the malignant exulta- 
tion painted in the countenances of the attendant monks and 
friars. The procession arrived at the chapel of the convent ; the 
Bun gleamed for the last time upon the chaplet of the poor novice 

she crossed the fatal threshold and disappeared from sight. 
rhe throng poured in with cowl and cross and minstrelsy. The 
lover paused for a moment at the door; I could understand 
the tumult of his feelings, but he mastered them and entered. 
There was a long interval— I pictured to myself the scene pass- 
ing within.— The poor novice despoiled of her transient finery 
[ — clothed in the conventual garb; the bridal chaplet taken 
^rom her brow; her beautiful head shorn of its long silken 
jtresscs — I heard her murmur the irrevocable vow — I saw her 
extended on her bier ; the death pall spread over ; the funeral 
service performed that proclaimed her dead to the world ; her 
sighs were drowned in the waihng anthem of the nuns and the 
sepulchral tones of the organ— the father looked, unmoved, 
without a tear — the lover — no— my fancy refused to portray 
bhe anguish of the lover— there the picture remained a blank. 
—The ceremony was over : the crowd again issued forth to be- 
liold the day and mingle in the joyous stir of life— but the 
victim with her bridal chaplet was no longer there — the door of 
bhe convent closed that secured her from the Avorld for ever. 
t saw the father and the lover issue forth— they were in ear- 
lest conversation — the young man was violent in his gestures, 
(vhen the wall of a house intervened and shut them from my 
sight 



^^ THE ALHAMBUA. 

That evening I noticed a solitary ligM twinkling from a re- 
mote lattice of the convent. There, said I, the unhappy novice 
sits weeping in her cell, whHe her lover paces the street below 
in unavaUing anguish. 

--The officious Mateo interrupted my meditations and cle- 
stroved in an instant, the cobweb tissue of my fancy. With 
his usual zeal he had gathered facts concerning the scene that ; 
had interested me. The heroine of my romance was neither 
young nor handsome-she had no lover-she had entered the ^. 
convent of her own free will, as a respectable asylum, and wa^ , 
one of the cheerf ulest residents within its walls ! 

I felt at first half vexed with the nun for being thus happy 
in her cell, in contradiction to all the rules of romance; but ^^ 
diverted my spleen by watching, for a day or two, the pretty 
coquetries of a dark-eyed brunette, who, from the covert of a ■ 
balcony shrouded with flowering shrubs and a silken awning, 
was carrying on a mysterious correspondence with a hand- 
some dark, weU- whiskered cavaher m the street beneath her 
window. Sometimes I saw him at an early hour, stealing 
forth, wrapped to the eyes in a mantle. Somethnes he loitered j 
at the corner, in various disguises, apparently waiting for a 
private signal to slip into the bower. Then there was a tink- 
ling of a guitar at night, and a lantern shifted from place to 
place in the balcony. I imagined another romantic mtrigue like .i 
that of Almaviva, but was again disconcerted in all my suppo- i 
sitions by being informed that the supposed lover was the | 
husband of the lady, and a noted contrabandista, and that all ;| 
his mysterious signs and movements had doubtless some smug- | 
gling scheme in view. ^i 

Scarce had the gray dawn streaked the sky and the earhest 
cock crowed from the cottages of the hill-side, when the: 
subm-bs gave sign of reviving animation; for the fresh hours 
of dawning are precious in the summer season in a sultry 
climate. All are anxious to get the start of the sun in the- 
business of the day. The muleteer drives forth his loaded 
train for the journey; the traveller slings his carbine behind 
his saddle and mounts his steed at the gate of the hostel. The< 
brown peasant urges his loitering donkeys, laden with pan- 
niers of sunny fruit and fresh dewy vegetables; for already; 
tho thrifty housewives are hastening to the market. ; 

The sun is up and sparkles along the vajley, topping the If 
transparent foliage of the groves. The matm bells resound |s 
melodiously thi'ough the pure bright air, announcmg the hou«r 



THE BALC(WY. no 

af devotion. The muleteer halts his burdened animals before 
the chapel, thrusts his staff through his belt behind, and 
bnters with hat in hand, smoothing his coal black hair, to 
hear a mass and put up a prayer for a prosperous wayfaring 
across th(^ Sierra. 

I And now steals forth with fairy foot the gentle Se^ora, in 
i^rimbusquina; with restless fan in hand and dark eye flash- 
ing from beneath her gracefully folded mantilla. She seeks 
jsome well frequented church to offer up her orisons; but the 
iiicely adjusted dress; the dainty shoe and cobweb stocking; 
'he raven tresses scrupulously braided, the fresh plucked rose 
ihat gleams among them like a gem, show that earth divides 
jvith heaven the empire of her thoughts. 

f As the morning advances, the din of labour augments on 
?very side ; the streets are thronged with man and steed, and 
)east of burden ; the universal movement produces a hum and 
jnurmur like the surges of the ocean. As the sun ascends to 
ds meridian the hum and bustle gradually dechne; at the 
height of noon there is a pause; the panting city sinks into 
assitude, and for several hours there is a general repose. 
iTie windows are closed; the curtains drawn; the inhabitants 
retired into the coolest recesses of their mansions. The full- 
ed monk snores in his dormitory. The brawny porter lies 
tretched on the pavement beside his burden. The peasant 
r.nd the labourer sleep beneath the trees of the Alameda, 
tilled by the sultry chirping of the locust. The streets are 
eserted except by the water carrier, who refreshes the ear by 
froclaiming the merits of his sparkhng beverage,— "Colder 
han mountain snow. " 

As the sun declines, there is again a gradual reviving, and 
7hen the vesper bell rings out his sinking knell, all nature 
pems to rejoice that the tyrant of the day has fallen. 
! Now begins the bustle of enjoyment. The citizens pour 
bHh to breathe the evening air, and re^el away the brief 
bdlight in the walks and gardens of the Darro and the Xenil. 

As the night closes, the motley scene assumes new features, 
iight after hght gradually twinkles forth; here a taper from 

balconied window ; there a votive lamp before the image of 

saint. Thus by degrees the city emerges from the pervading 
loom, and sparkles with scattered hghts like the starry 
rmament. Now break forth from court, and garden, and 
breet, and lane, the tinkling of innumerable guitars and the 
licking of castanets, blending at this lofty height, in a faint 



54 THE ALHAMBRA. 

and general concert. "Enjoy the moment," is the creed o: 
the gay and amorous Andalusian, and at no time does h< 
practise it more zealously than in the balmy nights of sum | 
mer, wooing his mistress with the dance, the love ditty anc 
the j)assionate serenade. 

I was seated one evening in the balcony enjoying the hgh 
breeze that came rustlmg along the side of the hiU among th( 
tree-tops, when my humble historiographer, Mateo, who war 
at my elbow, pointed out a spacious house in an obscure stree; 
of the Albaycin, about which he related, as nearly as I car 
recollect, the following anecdote. 

— -I 



THE ADVENTUEE OF THE MASON. 

There was once upon a time a poor mason, or bricklayer, in 
Granada, who kept aU the saints' days and holy days, and saint 
Monday into the bargain, and yet, with all his devotion, he » 
grew poorer and poorer, and could scarcely earn bread for his 
numerous family. One night he was roused from his first 
sleep by a knocking at his door. He opened it and beheld 1 
before him a tall, meagre, cadaverous-looking priest. "Hark ' 
ye, honest friend," said the stranger, "I have observed that , 
you are a good Christian, and one to be trusted; will you ' 
undertake a job this very night?" | 

"With all my heart, Senor Padre, on condition that I am' 
paid accordingly." 

"That you shall be, but you must suffer yourself to bo 
blindfolded." 

To this the mason made no objection; so being hoodwinked, 
he was led by the priest through various rough lanes and 
winding passages until they stopped before the portal of a 
house. The priest then apr)lied a key, turned a creaking locka 
and opened what sounded like a ponderous door. They en4 
tered, the door was closed and bolted, and the mason wasf 
conducted through an echoing corridor and spacious hall, toj 
an interior part of the building. Here the bandage was re4 
moved from his eyes, and he found himself in a patio, or 
court, dimly lighted by a single lamp. 

In the centre was a dry basin of an old Moorish fountain, 
under which the priest requested hiin to form a small vault, 
bricks and mortar being at hand for the purpose. He accord' 



, TIIK AD VENTURE OF THE MASON. 55 

[Ingly worked all night, but without finishing the job. Just 

Ipefore daybreak the priest put a piece of gold into his hand, 

'{and having again blindfolded him, conducted him back to his 

idwelling. 

\ "Arc you willing," said he, "to return and complete your 

work?" 

I "Gladly, Senor Padre, provided I am as well paid." 

I "Well, then, to-morrow at midnight I will call again." 

He did so, and the vault was completed. " Now," said the 
)riest, "you must help me to bring forth the bodies that are to 
)e buried in tliis vault. " 

The poor mason's hair rose on his head at these words ; he 
bllowed the priest with trembling steps, into a retired cham- 
ber of the mansion, expecting to behold some ghastly spectacle 
►f death, but was relieved, on perceiving three or four portly 

Bars standing in one comer. They were evidently full of 
aoney, and it was with great labour that he and the priest 
arried them forth and consigned them to their tomb. The 
ault was then closed, the pavement replaced and all traces 
f the work obliterated. 

The mason was again hoodwinked and led forth by a route 
liferent from that by which he had come. After they had 
wandered for a long time through a perplexed -maze of lanes 
ad alleys, they halted. The priest then put two pieces of gold 
ito his hand. "Vfait here," said he, "until you hear the 
athedral bell toll for matins. If you presume to uncover 
our eyes before that time, evil wiU befall you." So saying 
'e departed. 

I The mason waited faithfully, amusing himself by weighing 
le gold pieces in his hand and clinking them against each. 
bher. The moment the cathedral bell rung its matin peal, hel 
ncovered his eyes and found himseK on the banks of the 
[enil ; from whence he made the best of his way home, and 
^veiled Avith his family for a whole fortnight on the profits of 
is two nights' work, after which he was as poor as ever. 
He continued to work a little and pray a good deal, and 
3ep holydays and saints' days from year to year, while his 
tmily grew up as gaunt and ragged as a crew of gipsies. 
As he was seated one morning at the door of his hovel, he 
as accosted by a rich old curmudgeon who was noted for 
vning many houses and being a griping landlord. 
^^ The man of money eyed him for a moment, from beneath a 
^" dr of shaf2:ged eyebrows. 



m THE ALIIAMBRA. f 

" I am told, friend, that you are very poor. " «^ i 

" There is no denying the fact, Senor ; it speaks for itself." 

" I presume, then, you will be glad of a job, and will wort 
cheap." 

"As cheap, my master, as any mason in Granada." 

" That's what I want. I have an old house fallen to decay, 
fchat costs me more money than it is worth to keep it in repair \ 
for nobody will live in it ; so I must contrive to patch it uj 
and keep it together at as small expense as possible." i 

The mason was accordingly conducted to a huge desertec | 
house that seemed going to ruin. Passing through severa 
smpty halls and chambers, he entered an inner court, whert 
Ms eye was caught by an old Moorish fountain. 

He paused for a moment. "It seems," said he, " as if I hac 
been in this place before; but it is like a dream. — Pray whc 
occupied this house formerly?" 

"A pest upon him!" cried the landlord. "It was an old 
miserly priest, who cared for nobody but himself. He wa^ 
said to be inmaensely rich, and, having no relations, it waf 
thought he would leave aU his treasure to the church. H( 
died suddenly, and the priests and friars thronged to tak( 
possession of his wealth, but nothing could they find but a feTv 
ducats in a leathern purse. The worst luck has fallen or 
me ; for since his death, the old feUow continues to occupy mj 
house without paying rent, and there's no taking the law of £ 
dead man. The people pretend to hear at night the clinking 
of gold aU night long in the chamber where the old priest slept 
as if he were counting over his money, and sometimes a gror.n 
ing and moaning about the court. Whether true or false 
these stories have brought a bad name on my house, and not i 
tenant will remain in it." 

"Enough," said the mason sturdily — "Let me live in you] 
house rent free until some better tenant presents, and I wil 
engage to put it in repair and quiet the troubled spirits thai 
disturb it. I am a good Christian and a poor man, and am not 
to be daunted by the devil himself, even though he come in the 
shape of a big bag of money." 

The offer of the honest mason was gladly accepted; h( 
moved with his family into the house, and fulfilled all his en 
gagements. By httle and little he restored it to its forme; J i 
state. The clinking of gold was no longer heard at night ii ' 
the chamber of the defunct priest, but began to be heard b^ 
day in the pocket of the living mason. In a word, he in- 1 



A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 57 

jreased rapidly in wealth, to the admiration of all his neigh- 
)Oiirs, and became one of the richest men in Granada. He 
jave large sums to the church, by way, no doubt, of satisfying 
lis conscience, and never revealed the secret of his wealth 
mtil on his deathbed, to liis son and heir. 



A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 

I FREQUENTLY amuse myself towards the close of the day, 
nrhen the heat has subsided, with taking long rambles about 
-■lie neighbouring liills and the deep umbrageous valleys, 
iccompanied by my liistoriographer Squire Mateo, to whose 
>assion for gossiping, I, on such occasions, give the most un- 
)Ounding hcense ; and there is scarce a rock or ruin, or broken 
buntain, or lonely glen, about which he has not some mar- 
rellous story ; or, above all, some golden legend ; for never was 
)oor devil so munificent in dispensing hidden treasures. 

A few evenings since we took a long stroll of the kind, in 
vhich Mateo was more than usually communicative. It was 
lowards sunset that we sallied forth from the great Gate of 
ustice, and ascending an alley of trees, Mateo paused under a 

|~i?lump of fig and pomegranate trees at the foot of a huge ruined 
r.ower, called the Tower of the Seven Vaults, (de los siete 
^iielos.) Here, pointing to a low archway at the foundation of 
he tower, he informed me, in an under tone, was the lurking- 
)lace of a monstrous sprite or hobgoblin called the Belludo, 
A liich had infested the tower ever since the time of the Moors ; 
ruarding, it is supposed, the treasures of a Moorish kmg. 
-i >nietimes it issues forth in the dead of the night, and scours 
lie avenues of the Alhambra and the streets of Granada in 
be shape of a headless horse, pursued by six dog^;, Avith 
:errific yells and bowlings. 

' ■ But have you ever met with it yourself, Mateo, in c.ny of 
*,-our rambles?" 

' ' No, seiior ; but my grandfather, the tailor, knew several 
persons who had seen it ; for it went about much more in his 
time than at present : sometimes in one shape, sometimes in 
mother. Every body in Granada has heard of the Belludo, 
[or the old women and nurses frighten the children with it 
when they cry. Some say it is the spirit of a cruel Moorish 



58 THE ALHAMBRA. 



\ 






king, who killed his six sons, and buried them in these vaults 
and that they hunt him at nights in revenge." 

Mateo went on to tell many particulars about this redoubt^ 
able hobgoblin, which has, in fact, been time out of mind i 
favourite theme of nursery tale and popular tradition in Gra 
nada, and is mentioned in some of the antiquated guide-books, 
When he had finished, we passed on, skirting the fruitful] 
orchards of the Generahffe ; among the trees of which two ov 
three nightingales were pouring forth a rich strain of melody. 
Behind these orchards we passed a number of Moorish tanks, 
with a door cut into the rocky bosom of the hill, but closed up.i 
These tanks Mateo informed me were favourite bathing-placea 
of himself and his comrades in boyhood, until frightened away 
by a story of a liideous Moor, who used to issue forth from the 
door in the rock to entrap unwary bathers. 

Leaving these haunted tanks behind us, we pursued our 
ramble up a sohtary mule-path that wound among the hills, 
and soon found ourselves amidst wild and melancholy moun- 
tains, destitute of trees, and here and there tinted with scanty 
verdure. Every thing within sight was severe and sterile, and 
it was scarcely possible to realize the idea that but a short dis- 
tance behind us was the Generalise, with its blooming or- 
chards and terraced gardens, and that we were in the vicinity 
of delicious Granada, that city of groves and fountains. But 
such is the nature of Spain— wild and stern the moment it 
escapes from cultivation, the desert and the garden are ever 
side by side. 

The narrow defile up which we were passing is called, 
according to Mateo, el Barranco de la Tinaja, or the ravine of 
the jar. 

"And why so, Mateo?" inquired I. 

"Because, senor, a jar full of Moorish gold was found here^ 
in old times." The brain of poor Mateo is continually run- 
ning upon these golden legends. 

"But what is the meaning of the cross I see yonder upon 
a heap of stones in that narrow part of the ravine?" 

" Oh! that's nothing — a muleteer was murdered there some 
years since." 

" So then, Mateo, you have robbers and murderers even at 
the gates of the Alhambra." 

"Not at present, senor — that was, formerly, when there 
used to be many loose fellows about the fortress ; but they've 
all been weeded out. Not but that the gipsies, who live m 



1 



I A RAMBLE AMONG TIIK HILLS. 59 

aves in the hill-sides just out of the fortress, are, many of 
[lem, fit for any thing; but we have had no murder about 
ere for a long time past. The man who murdered the mule- 
jerwas hanged in the fortress." 

Our path continued up the barranco, with a bold, rugged 
eight to our left, called the SiUa del Moro, or chair of the 
[cor; from a tradition that the unfortunate Boabdil fled 
lither during a popular insurrection, and remained all day 
)ated on the rocky summit, looking mournfully down upon 
is factious city. 

We at length arrived on the highest part of the promon- 
>ry above Granada, called the Mountain of the Sun. The 
p'ening was approaching ; the settiug sim just gilded the lof- 
est heights. Here and there a solitary shepherd might be 
3scried driving his flock down the declivities to be folded for 
le night, or a muleteer and his lagging animals threading 
)ine moimtain path, to arrive at the city gates before night- 
01. 

Presently the deep tones of the cathedral bell came swell- 
Lg up the defiles, proclaiming the hour of Oracion, or prayer. 
he note was responded to from the belfry of every church, 
id from the sweet bells of the convents among the moun- 
lins. The shepherd paused on the fold of the hill, the mule- 
ler in the midst of the road; each took off his hat, and 
jmained motionless for a time, murmuring his evening 
payer. There is always something solemn and pleasing in 
lis custom ; by which, at a melodious signal, every human 
3ing throughout the land, recites, at the same moment, a 
ibute of thanks to God for the mercies of the day. It 
ffuses a transient sanctity over the land, and the sight of the 
m sinking in all his glory, adds not a little to the solemnity 
: the scene. In the present instance, the effect was height- 
led by the wild and lonely nature of the place. We were on 
le naked and broken summit of the haunted Mountain of the 
m, where ruined tanks and cisterns, and the mouldering 
undations of extensive buildings, spoke of former populous- 
3ss, but where all was now silent and desolate. 
As we were wandering among these traces of old times, 
lateo pointed out to me a circular pit, that seemed to pene- 
ate deep into the bosom of the mountain. It was evidently 
deep wefl, dug by the indefatigable Moors, to obtain their 
Ivourite element in its greatest purity. Mateo, however, had 
; different story, and much more to his humour. This was. 



60 THE ALHAMBRA. 

according to tradition, an entrance to the subterranean cav 
erns of the mountain, in which Boabdil and his court la^ 
bound in magic spell ; and from whence they sallied forth a 1 
night, at allotted times, to revisit their ancient abodes. 

The deepening twilight, which in tliis climate is of siicl 
short duration, admonished us to leave this haunted ground 
As we descended the mountain defiles, there was no longe: 
herdsman or mideteer to be seen, nor any thing to be hearc 
but our own footsteps and the lonely chirping of the cricket 
The shadows of the vaUeys grew deeper and deeper, until al 
was dark around us. The lofty summit of the Sierra Nevadj 
alone retained a lingering gleam of day-light, its snowy peak 
glaring against the dark blue firmament; and seeming clos( 
to us, from the extreme purity of the atmosphere. 

"How near the Sierra looks this evening !" said Mateo, "ii 
seems as if you could touch it with your hand, and yet i1 
is many long leagues off." While he was speaking a star ap 
pearcd over the snowy summit of the mountain, the only one 
yet visible in the heavens, and so pure, so large, so bright 
and beautiful as to call forth ejaculations of delight froix 
honest Mateo. 

" Que lucero hermoso!— que claro y limpio es! — no pueda ser ! 
lucero mas brillante !" — 

(What a beautiful star! how clear and lucid!— no star could 
be more brilliant !) 

I have often remarked this sensibility of the common people 
of Spain to the charms of natural objects. The lustre of a stai 
— the beauty or fragrance of a flower — the crystal purity of a 
fountain, will inspire them with a kind of poetical delight— 
and then what euphonious words their magnificent language 
affords, with which to give utterance to their transports ! 

"But what lights are those, Mateo, which I see twinkling 
along the Sierra Nevada, just below the snowy region, and 
which might be taken for stars, only that they are ruddy and 
against the dark side of the mountain?" 

"Those, Seiior, are fires made by the men who gather snow; 
and ice for the supply of G-ranada. They go up every afterf 
noon with mules and asses, and take turns, some to rest andf 
warm themselves by the fires, while others fill their pannieni 
with ice. They then set off down the mountain, so as to reacll 
the gates of Granada before sunrise. That Sierra Nevada| 
Senor, is a lump of ice in the middle of Andalusia, "to keep if 
all cool in summer." 



J 



A RAMBLIl AMONG THE HILLS. 6X 

It was now completely dark; we were passing through the 
arranco where stood the cross of the murdered muleteer, 
rhen I beheld a number of lights moving at a distance and ap- 
arently advancing up the ravine. On nearer approach they 
roved to be torches borne by a train of uncouth figures ar- 
lyed in black ; it would have been a procession dreary enough 
any time, but was peculiarly so in this wild and solitary 
lace. 

Mateo drew near, and told me in a low voice that it was a 
moral train bearing a corpse to the burying ground among 
le hills. 

As the procession passed by, the lugubrious light of the 
►rches, falling on the iiigged features and funereal weeds of 
lG attendants, had the most fantastic effect, but was perfectly 
lastly as it revealed the countenance of the corpse, which, 
wording to Spanish custom, was borne uncovered on an open 
er. I remained for some time gazing after the dreary train 
it wound up the dark defile of the mountain. It put me 
mind of the old story of a procession of demons, bearing the 
)dy of a sinner up the crater of Stromboli. 

Ah, Senor," cried Mateo, ''I could tell you a story of a pro- 
ssion once seen among these mountains— but then you woidd 
ugh at me, and say it was one of the legacies of my grand- 
ther the tailor. " 

By no mea,ns, Mateo. There is nothing I relish more than 

arvellous tale." 

Well, Seiior, it is about one of those very men we have 
en talking of, who gather snow on the Sierra Nevada. You 
ust know that a great many years since, in my grandfather's 
ne, there was an old fellow, Tio Nicolo by name, who had 
led the panniers of his mules with snow and ice, and was 
turning down the mountain. Being very droAvsy, he 
Qunted upon the mule, and, soon falling asleep, went with 

head nodding and bobbing about from side to side, while 
3 sure-footed old mule stepped along the edge of precipices, 
d down steep and broken barrancos just as safe and steady 
if it had been on plain ground. At length Tio Nicolo awoke, 
d gazed about him, and rubbed his eyes — and in good truth 
had reason — the moon shone almost as bright as day, and 
saw the city below him, as plain as your hand, and shining 

Ith its white buildings like a silver platter in the moonshine ; 
t lord ! Seiior !— it was nothing like the city he left a few 
urs before. Instead of the cathedral with its great dome 



62 THE ALHAMBRA. 

and turrets, and the churches with their spires, and the con 
vents with their pinnacles all surmounted with the blessed 
cross, he saw nothing but Moorish mosques, and minarets, 
and cupolas, all topped off with glittering crescents, such aj 
you see on the Barbary flags. Well, Seiior, as you may sup 
pose, Tio Nicolo was mightily puzzled at all this, but while h( 
was gazing down upon the city, a great army came marching 
up the mountain ; winding along the ravines, sometimes in th( 
moonshine, sometimes in the shade. As it drew nigh, he sav 
that there were horse and foot, all in Moorish armour. Tic 
Nicolo tried to scramble out of their way, but his old miA 
stood stock still and refused to budge, trembling at the sam<i 
tune hke a leaf— for dumb beasts, Seiior, are just as mucl 
frightened at such things as human beings. Well, Seiior, tbi 
hobgoblin army came marching by; there were men thai 
seemed to blow ti-umpets, and others to beat drums and strik' 
cymbals, yet never a sound did they make ; they all moved o; 
without the least noise, just as I have seen painted armie 
move across the stage in the theatre of Granada, and a 
looked as pale as death. At last in the rear of the armj 
between tAvo black Moorish horsemen, rode the grand inquis 
tor of Granada, on a mule as white as snow. Tio Nicolo woi 
dered to see him in such company; for the inquisitor we 
famous for his hatred of Moors, and indeed of all kinds ( 
infidels, Jews and heretics, and used to hunt them out wit 
fire and scourge — however, Tio Nicolo felt himself safe, no 
that there was a priest of such sanctity at hand. So, makir 
the sign of the cross, he called out for his benedicMon, when- 
hombre ! he received a blow that sent him and his old mu 
over the edge of a steep bank, down which they rolled, hef 
over heels, to the bottom. Tio Nicolo did not come to h 
senses until long after suniise, when he found hunself at tl 
bottom of a deep ravine, his mule grazing beside him, and h j 
panniers of snow completely melted. He crawled back 
Granada sorely bruised and battered, and was glad to find tl | 
city looking as usual, with Christian churches and crosse ! 
When he told the story of his night's adventure, every oi 
laughed at him : some said he had dreamt it all, ais he doz-; 
on his mule, others thought it all a fabrication ot his otv 
But what was strange, Seiior, and made people afterwar 
tliink more seriously of the matter, was, that the grand i 
quisitor died within the year. I have often heard my grai 
father, the tailor, say that there was more meant by ttjl] 



! 



THE COURT OF LIONS. 63 

hobgoblin army bearing off the resemblance of the priest, than 
folks dared to surmise. " 

'Then you would insinuate, friend Mateo, that there is a 
kind of Moorish limbo, or purgatory, in the bowels of these 
mountains; to which the padre inquisitor was birne off." 

*' God forbid— Seiior— I know nothing of the matter— I only 
relate what I heard from my grandfather." 

By the time Mateo had finished the tale which I have more 
succinctly related, and which was interlarl3l with many 
comments, and spun out with minute details, we reached the 
gate of the Alhambra. 



THE COURT OF LIONS. 

The peculiar charm of this old dreamy palace, is its power 
Df calling up vague reveries and picturings of the past, and 
thus clothing naked realities with the illusions of the memory 
EUid the imagination. As I delight to walk in these "vain 
ahadows," I am prone to seek those parts of the Alhambra 
wrhich are most favourable to this phantasmagoria of the 
mind ; and none are more so than the Court of Lions and its 
surrounding halls. Here the hand of time has fallen the 
lightest, and the traces of Moorish elegance and splendour 
3xist in almost their original brilliancy. Earthquakes have 
shaken the foundations of this pile, and rent its rudest towers, 
jret see — not one of those slender columns has been displaced, 
ot an arch of that light and fragile colonnade has given way, 
md all the fairy fretwork of these domes, apparently as un- 
jubstantial as the crystal fabrics of a morning's frost, yet exist 
ifter the lapse of centuries, almost as fresh as if from the hand 
)f the Moslem artist. 

I write in the midst of these mementos of the past, in the 
iresh hour of early morning, in the fated hall of the Abencer- 
l^ges. The blood-stained fountain, the legendary monument 
[)f their massacre, is before me ; the lofty jet almost casts its 
lew upon my paper. How difficult to reconcile the ancient 
iale of violence and blood, with the gentle and peaceful scene 
tround. Every thing here appears calculated to inspire kind 
md happy feelings, for every thing is delicate and beautiful. 
Che very light falls tenderly from above, through the lantern 



(54 THE ALHAMBRA. \ 

of a dome tinted and wrought as if by fairy hands. Through 
the ample and fretted arch of the portal, I behold the Court of 
Lions, with brilliant sunshine gleaming along its colonnades 
and sparkling in its fountains. The lively swallow dives into 
the court, and then surging upwards, darts away twittering 
over the roof ; the busy bee toils humming among the flower- 
beds, and painted butterflies hover from plant to plant, and 
flutter up, and sport with each other in the sunny air.— It 
needs but a slight exertion of the fancy to picture some pen- 
sive beauty of the harem, loitering in these secluded haunts of 
oriental luxury. 

He, however, who would behold this scene under an aspect 
more in unison with its fortunes, let him come when the 
shadows of evening temper the brightness of the court, and 
throw a gloom into the surromiding halls, — then nothing can 
be more serenely melancholy, or more in harmony with the 
tale of departed grandeur. 

At such times I am apt to seek the Hall of Justice, whose 
deep shadowy arcades extend across the upper end of the 
court. Here were performed, in presence of Ferdinand and 
Isabella, and their triumphant court, the pompous ceremonies 
of high mass, on taking possession of the Alhambra. The very 
cross is still to be seen upon the wall, where the altar was 
erected, and where officiated the grand cardinal of Spain, and 
others of the highest religious dignitaries of the land. 

I picture to myself the scene when this place was filled with 
the conquering host, that mixture of mitred prelate, and shorn 
monlc, and steel-clad knight, and silken courtier : when crosses 
and croziers and religious standards were mingled with proud 
armorial ensigns and the banners of the haughty chiefs of. 
Spain, and flaunted in triumph through these Moslem halls.^ 
I picture to myself Columbus, the future discoverer of a world,!, 
taking his modest stand in a remote corner, the hmnble andc 
neglected spectator of the pageant. I see in imagination that 
Cathohc sovereigns prostrating themselves b'^fore the altar i 
and pouring forth thanks for their victory, while the vaultSji 
resound with sacred minstrelsy and the deep-toned Te Deum. : 

The transient fllUsion is over — the pageant melts from thejf 
fancy— monarch, priest, and warrior return into oblivion, witM 
the poor Moslems over whom they exulted. The hall of theirii 
triumph is waste and desolate. The bat flits about its twilight ' 
vaults, and the owl hoots from the neighbouring tower of 
Comares. The Court of the Lions has also its share of super- 



THE COURT OF LIONS. 65 

latural legends. I have already mentioned the belief in the 

nurniuriiig of voices and clanking of chains, made at night 

>y the spirits of the murdered Abencerrages. Mateo Ximenes, 

I few evening since, at one of the gatherings in Dame An- 

onia's apartment, related a fact which happened within the 

knowledge of his grandfather, the legendary tailor. There 

b^as an invalid soldier, who had charge of the Alhambra, to 

pow it to strangers. As he was one evening about twilight 

assing through the Court of Lions, he heard footsteps in the 

ftall of the Abencerrages. Supposing some loungers to be 

'ngcring there, he advanced to attend upon them, when, to his 

stonishment, he beheld four Moors richly dressed, w^ith gilded 

•Liirasses and scimitars, and poniards glittering with precious 

:":ones. They were walking to and fro with solemn pace, but 

1 aused and beckoned to him. The old soldier, however, took 

J) flight; and could never afterwards be prevailed upon to 

-iter the Alhambra. Thus it is that men sometimes turn 

iieir backs upon fortune ; for it is the firm opinion of Mateo 

bat the Moors intended to reveal the place where their treas- 

Ves lay buried. A successor to the invalid soldier was more 

.no wing; he came to the Alhambra poor, but at the end of a 

^ar went off to Malaga, bought horses, set up a carriage, and 

Jill lives there, one of the richest as well as oldest men of the 

ace : all which, Mateo sagely surmises, was m consequence of 

•s finding out the golden secret of these phantom Moors. 

On entering the Court of the Lions, a fevv^ evenings since, I 

fas startled at beholding a turbaned Moor quietly seated near 

\ii fountain. It seemed, for a moment, as if one of the stories 

t Mateo Ximenes were realized, and some ancient inhabitant 

! the Alhambra had broken the spell of centuries, and become 

feibie. It proved, however, to be a mere ordinary mortal ; a 

ftive of Tetuan in Barbary, who had a shop in the Zacatin of 

•anada, where he sold rhubarb, trinkets, and perfumes. As 

spoke Spanish fluently, I was enabled to hold conversation 

fch him, and found him shrewd and mtelligent. He told me 

it he came up the hiU occasionally in the summer, to pass a 

•t of the day in the Alhambra, which remmded him of the 

palaces in Barbary, which were built and adorned in simi- 

style, though with less magnificence. 

^s we walked about the palace he pointed out several of the 
a,bic inscriptions, as possessing much poetic beauty. 
*Ah! Sefior," said he, "when the Moors held Granada, they 
re a gayer people than they are now-a-days. They thought 



QQ TEE ALITAMBBA. 

only of love, of music, and of poetry. They made stanzf 
upon ev^^ry occasion, and set them all to music. He who couli 
make the best verses, and she who had the most tuneful voice, 
might be sure of favour and "oreferment. In those days, if 
an^f one asked for bread the reply was, 'Make me a couplet^ 
and the poorest beggar, if he begged in rhyme, would often \m 
rewarded with a piece of gold." 1 

"And is the popular feeling for poetry," said I, "entirely; 
lost among you?" j 

"By no means, Senor; the people of Barbary, even those 4j 
the lower classes, still make couplets, and good ones too, as ir 
tho old time, but talent is not rewarded as it was then : the 
rich prefer the jingle of their gold to the sound of poetry oi 
music." 

As he was talking, his eye caught one of the inscriptionf 
that foretold perpetuity to the power and glory of the Moslenc: 
monarchs, the masters of the pile. He shook his head an^|^ 
shrugged Ms shoulders as he interpreted it. "Such mighi 
have been the case," said he; "the Moslems might still havfl 
been reigning in the Alhambra, had not Boabdil been a trai 
tor, and^ given up his capitol to the Christians. The Spanisl 
monarchs wou?ld never have been able to conquer it by opei 
force." 

I endeavoured to vindicate the memory of the unlucky Bo 
abdil from this aspersion, and to show that the dissensioni 
Wfhich led to the downfall of the Moorish throne, originated ii 
the cruelty of his tiger-hearted father; but the Moor woul( 
admit of no palliation. 

"Abul Hassan," said he, "might have been cruel, but h 
was brave, vigilant, and patriotic. Had he been properl; 
seconded, Granada would still have been ours; but his so] 
Boabdil thwarted his plans, crippled his power. s®wed treasoi 
in his palace, and dissension in his camp. May the curse o 
God light upon him for his treachery." With these words th; 
Moor left the Alhambra. 

The indignation of my turbaned companion agrees with a;; 
anecdote related by a friend, who, in the course of a tour i. 
Barbary, had an interview with the pasha of Tetuan. Tfc 
]\Ioorish governor was particular in his inquiries about the soil' 
the climate and resources of Spain, and especially concerniml 
the favoured regions of Andalusia, the delights of GranadI 
and the remains of its royal palace. The replies awakened a! 
those fond recollections, so deeply cherished by the Moors, ( 



^l. 



BOABDIL EL CIIICO. 07 

the power and splendour of their ancient empire in Spain. 
Turning to his Moslem attendants, the pacha stroked his 
beard, and broke forth in passionate lamentations that cuch a 
sceptre should have fallen from the sway of tiiio believers. 
Ho consoled himself, however, with the persuasion, that the 
power and prosperity of the Spanish nation were on the de- 
cline ; that a time would come when the Mooi-s would recon- 
quer their rightful domains ; and that the day was, perhaps, 
not far distant, when Mohammedan worship would again be 
offered up in the mosque of Cordova, and a Mohammedan 
prince sit on liis throne in the Alhambra. 

Such is the general aspiration and belief among the Moors of 
Barbary ; who consider Spain, and especially Andalusia, their 
rip:htful heritage, of which they have been despoiled by 
treachery and violence. These ideas are fostered and per- 
petuated by the descendants of the exiled Moors of Granada, 
scattered among the cities of Barbary. Several of these reside 
in Tetuan, preserving their ancient names, such as Paez, and 
Medina, and refraining from intermarriage with any families 
who cannot claim the same high origin. Their vaunted lineage 
[s regarded with a degree of popular deference rarely shown in 
Mohammedan communities to any hereditary distinction ex- 
cept in the royal line. 

These families, it is said, continue to sigh after the terres- 
/rial paradise of their ancestors, and to put up prayers in their 
biosques on Fridays, imploring Allah to hasten the time when 
Grranada shall be restored to the faithful; an event to which 
hey look forward as fondly and confidently as did the Chris- 
dan crusaders to the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre. Nay, it 
s added, that some of them retain the ancient maps and deeds 
♦f the estates and gardens of their ancestors at Granada, and 
ven the keys of the houses; holding them as evidences of 
heir hereditary claims, to be produced at the anticipated day 
i restoration. 

\ 



BOABDIL EL CHICO. 

My conversation with the Moor in the Court of Lions set me 
5 musing on the singular fate of Boabdil. Never was sur- 
ame more applicable than that bestowed upon him by his 
ibiects. of ' ' El Zosrovbi. " or, ' ' the unlucky." His misfortimes 



gg THE ALII AM BRA, 

began almost in his cradle. In his tender youth he was impris- 
oned and menaced with death by an inhuman father, and only 
escaped through a mother's stratagem : in after years Ms life 
-was imbittered and repeatedly endangered by the hostilities of 
a usurping uncle; his reign was distracted by external inva- 
sions and internal feuds ; he was alternately the foe, the pris- 
oner, the friend, and always the dupe of Ferdinand, until 
conquered and dethroned by the mingled craft and force of 
that perfidious monarch. An exile from his native land, he 
took refuge with one of the princes of Africa, and fell ob- 
scurely in battle fighting in the cause of a stranger. His mis- 
fortunes ceased not with his death. If Boabdil cherished a| 
desire to leave an honourable name on the historic page, howi 
cruelly has he been defrauded of his hopes ! Who is there that 
has turned the least attention to the romantic history of the 
Moorish domination in Spain, without kindling with indigna- i 
tion at the alleged atrocities of Boabdil? Who has not been | 
touched with the woes of his lovely and gentle queen, subjected ! 
by him to a trial of life and death, on a false charge of infidel- 1 
ity? Who has not been shocked by the alleged murder of his I 
sister and her two children, in a transport of passion? Whoi 
has not felt his blood boil at the inhuman massacre of the gal-lj 
lant Abencerrages, thirty-six of whom, it is affirmed, he caused | 
to be beheaded in the Court of the Lions? AU these charges' 
have been reiterated in various forms ; they have passed into I 
ballads, dramas, and romances, until they have taken tool 
thorough, possession of the public mind to be eradicated. jj 

There is not a foreigner of education that visits the Alham-rj 
bra, but asks for the fountain where the Abencerrages werelj 
beheaded; and gazes with horror at the grated gallery where 
the queen is said to have been confined; not a peasant of thej 
Vega or the Sierra, but sings the story in rude couplets to the 
accompaniment of his guitar, while his heareus learn to exG' 
crate the very narae of Boabdil. 

Never, however, was name more foully and unjustly sian 
dered. I have examined all the authentic chronicles anc 
letters written by Spanish authors contemporary with Boab; 
dil ; some of whom were in the confidence of the Catholic sovei 
reigns, and actually present in the camp throughout the war 
I have examined all the Arabian authorities I could get acces: 
to through the medium of translation, and can find notliing t 
justify these dark and hateful accusations. 

The whole of these tales may be traced to a work commonl; 



BOABDIL EL CIIICO. 69 

called "Tlie Civil Wars of Granada," containing a pretended 
history of the feuds of the Zegries and Abencerrages during 
the last stniggle of the Moorish empire. This work appeared 
originally in Spanish, and professed to be translated from the 
Arabic by one Gines Perez de Hita, an inhabitant of ]\Iurcia. 
It has since passed into various languages, and Florian has 
taken from it much of the fable of his Gonsalvo of Cordova. 
It has, in a great measure, usurped the authority of real his- 
tory, and is currently beUeved by the people, and especially 
the peasantry of Granada. The whole of it, however, is a mass 
of fiction, mingled with a few disfigiu-ed truths, which give it 
an au' of veracity. It bears internal evidence of its falsity, the 
manners and customs of the Moors being extravagantly mis- 
represented in it, and scenes depicted totally incompatible 
with their habits and their faith, and which never could have 
been recorded by a Mahometan writer. 

I confess there seems to me something almost criminal in the 
wilful perversions of this work. Great latitude is undoubtedly 
to be allowed to romantic fiction, but there are hmits which it 
must not pass, and the names of the distinguished dead, which 
belong to history, are no more to be calumniated than those of 
the illustrious living. One would have thought, too, that the 
! unfortunate Boabdil had suffered enough for his justifiable 
hostihty to Spaniards, by being stripped of his kingdom, with- 
out having his name thus wantonly traduced and rendered a 
bye- word and a theme of infamy in his native land, and in the 
very mansion of his fathers ! 

It is not intended hereby to affirai that the transactions im- 
puted to Boabdil are totally without historic foundation, but 
as far as they can be traced, they appear to have been the arts 
of his father, Abul Hassan, who is represented, by both Chris- 
tian and Arabian chroniclers, as being of a cruel and ferocious 
nature. It was he who put to death the cavaHers of the illus- 
trious line of the Abencerrages, upon suspicion of their being 
engaged In a conspiracy to dispossess him of his throne. 

The story of the accusation of the queen of Boabdil, and of 
her confinement in one of the towers, may also be traced to an 
incident in the life of his tiger-hearted father. Abul Hassan, 
in his advanced age, married a beautiful Christian captive of 
noble descent, who took the Moorish appellation of Zoraj^da, 
by whom he had two sons. She was of an ambitious spirit, 
ind anxious that her children should succeed to the crown. 
For this purpose she worked upon the suspicious temper of the 



70 TEE ALUAMBRA. 

king; inflaming him with jealousies of his children hy his 
other wives and concubines, whom she accused of plotting 
against liis throne and life. Some of them were slain by the 
ferocious father. Ayxa la Horra, the virtuous mother of Bo- 
abdil, who had once been his cherished favourite, became 
Ukewise the object of his suspicion. He confined her and her 
son in the tower of Comares, and would have sacrificed Boab- 
dil to his fury, but that his tender mother lowered him from 
the tower, in the night, by means of the scarfs of herself and i 
her attendants, and thus enabled him to escape to Guadix. I \ 

Such is the only shadow of a foundation that I can find for j' 
the story of the accused and captive queen ; and in this it i; 
appears that Boabdil was the persecuted instead of the per- 
secutor. 

Throughout the whole of his brief, turbulent, and disastrous 
reign, Boabdil gives evidences of a mild and amiable character. 
He in the first instance won the hearts of the people by liis 
affable and gracious manners; he was always peaceable, andjt 
never inflicted any severity of punishment upon those who 
occasionally rebelled against him. He was personally brave, 
but he wanted moral courage, and in times of difiiculty andl 
perplexity, was wavering and irresolute. This feebleness of 
spirit hastened his downfaU, while it deprived him of that 
heroic grace which would have given a grandeur and dignity 
to his fate, and rendered him worthy of closing the splendid 
drama of the Moslem domination in Spain. 



MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL. 

While my mind was stil] warm with the subject of the un- 
fortunate Boabdfl, I set forth to trace the mementos connected 
with his story, which yet exist in this scene of his sovereignty 
and his misfortunes. In the picture gaUery of the Palace of the 
Generalise, hangs his portrait. The face is mild, handsome and 
somewhat melancholy, with a fair complexion and yellow hair; 
if it be a true representation of the man, he may have been 
wavering and uncertain, but there is nothing of cruelty or un- 
kindness in his .aspect. 

I next visited the dungeon wherein he was confined in hi? 
youthful days, when his cruel father meditated his destruction 



i MEMEISTOS OF BOABDIL. 71 

It is a vaulted room in the tower of Comares, under the Hall of 
Ambassadors. A similar room, separated by a narrow passage, 
was the prison of his mother, the virtuous Ayxa la Horra. 
rhe walls are of prodigious thickness, and the small windows 
secured by iron bars. A narrow stone gallery, with a low ]iar- 
Eipet, extends romid three sides of the toAver just below the 
wrindows, but at a considerable height from the ground. From 
bhis gallery, it is presumed, the queen lowered her son witli the 
scarfs of herself and her female attendants, during the dark- 
less of night, to the hillside, at the foot of which waited a do- 
mestic with a fleet steed to bear the prince to the mountains. 

As I paced this gallery, my imagination pictured the anxious 
lueen leaning over the parapet, and listening, with the throb- 
jings of a mother's heart, to the last echo of the hoi'se's hoofs, 
IS her son scoured along the narrow valley of the Darro. 

My next search was for the gate by which Boabdil departed 
irom the Alhambra, when about to surrender his capital. 
W"ith the melancholy caprice of a broken spirit, he requested 
)f the Catholic monarchs that no one afterwards might be per- 
nitted to pass through this gate. His prayer, according to an- 
;ient chronicles, was complied with, through the sympathy of 
[sabella, and the gate walled up. For some time I inquired in 
rain for such a portal ; at length my humble attendant, Mateo, 
.earned among the old residents of the fortress, that a ruinous 
gateway still existed, by which, according to tradition, the 
VIoorish king had left the fortress, but which had never been 
)pened within the memory of the oldest inhabitant. 

He conducted me to the spot. The gateway is in the centre 
)f what was once an immense tower, called la Torre de los 
Siete Suelos, or, the ToAver of the Seven Moors. It is a place 
lamous in the superstitious stories of the neighbourhood, for 
)eing the scene of strange apparitions and Moorish enchant- 
nents. 

This once redoubtable tower is now a mere wreck, having 
)een blown up with gunpowder, by the French, when they 
ibandoned the fortress. Groat masses of the wall lie scattered 
ibout, buried in the luxuriant herbage, or overshadowed by 
idnes and fig-trees. The arch of the gateway, though rent by 
;he shock, still remains ; but the last wish of poor Boabdil has 
)een again, though unintentionally, fulfilled, for the portal has 
jeen closed up by loose stones gathered from the ruins, and re ' 
nains impassable. 

Following up the route of the Moslem monarch as it remains 



72 THE ALIIAMBUA. 

on record, I crossed on horseback the hill of Les Martyrs, keep- 
ing along the garden of the convent of the same name, andj ! 
thence down a rugged ravine, beset by thickets of aloes and' 
Indian figs, and lined by caves and hovels swarming with gip- 
sies. It was the road taken by Boabdil to avoid passing 
through the city. The descent was so steep and broken tha.t I 
was obliged to dismount and lead my horse. 

Emerging from the ravine, and passing by the Puerta de los 
Molinos, (the Gate of the MiUs,) I issued forth upon the publico! 
promenade, called the Prado, and pursuing the course of thee 
Xenil, arrived at a small Moorish mosque, now converted into j 
the chapel, or hermitage of San Sebastian. A tablet on the ^ 
wall relates that on this spot Boabdil surrendered the keys of 
Granada to the Castihan sovereigns. 

From thence I rode slowly across the Vega to a village where 
the family and household of the unhappy kmg had awaited 
him; for he had sent them forward on the preceding night from 
the Alhambra, that his mother and wife might not participate 
in his personal huixiiliation, or be exposed to the gaze of the 
conquerors. 

Following on in the route of the melancholy band of i"oyaL . 
exiles, I arrived at the foot of a chain of barren ?md drear^ 
heights, forming the skirt of the Alpuxarra mountains. From''' 
the summit of one of these, the unfortunate Boabdil took his 
last look at Granada. It bears a name expressive of his sor- 
rows — La Cuesta de las Lagrimas, (the Hill of Tears.) Beyond | 
it a sandy road winds across a rugged cheerless waste, doubly 
dismal to the unhappy monarch, as it led to exile ; behind, in 
the distance, lies the " enamelled Vega," with the Xenil shining - 
among its bowers, and Granada beyond. 

I spurred my horse to the summit of a rock, where Boabdil 
uttered his last sorrowful exclamation, as lie turned his eyes 
from taking their farewell gaze. It is still denominated el ul- 
timo suspiro del Moro, (the last sigh of the Moor.) Who can 
wonder at his anguish at being expelled from such a kingdom \ 
and such an abode? With the Alhambra he seemed to be ! 
yielding up aU the honours of his line, and all the glories and 
delights of life. 

It was here, too, that his affliction was imbittered by the re' 
proach of his mother Ayxa, who had so often assisted him in 
times of peril, and had vainly sought to instil into him her own 
resolute spirit. ' ' You do well, " said she, ' ' to weep as a woman 
pver wbat you coiijd not defend as a man !"— A speech thai 



TlIK TOWIUl OF LAS INFAM'AS. 73 

savours more of the pride of the princess, than the tendernesw 
of the mother. 

When this anecdote was related to Charles V., by Bishop 
Guevara, the emperor joined in the expression of scorn at the 
weakness of the wavering Boabdil. "Had I been he, or ho 
been I," said the haughty potentate, "I would rather have 
made this Alhambra my sepulchi-e, than have lived without a 
kingdom in the Alpuxarra. 

How easy it is for them in power and prosperity to preach 
heroism to the vanquished ! How little can they understand 
that life itself may rise in value with the unfortunate, when 
nought but lite remains. 



THE TOWER OF LAS INFANTAS. 

In an evening's stroll up a narrow glen, overshadowed by 
fig-trees, pomegranates, and myrtles, that divides the land of 
ithe fortress from those of the Generaliffe, I was struck with 
the romantic appearance of a Moorish tower in the outer wall 
:of the Alhambra, that rose high above the tree-tops, and 
caught the ruddy rays of the setting sun. A solitary windov/, 
at a great height, commanded a view of the glen, and as I was 
rej2:arding it a young female looked out, with her head adorned 
Vvith flowers. She was evidently superior to the usual class ot 
people that inhabit the old towers of the fortress; and this 
jiBudden and picturesque glimpse of her, reminded me of the 
I descriptions of captive beauties in fairy tales. The fancifid 
i 'associations of my mind were increased on being informed by 
' my attendant, Mateo, that this was the tower of the princesses, 
(la Torre de las Infantas,) so called from having been, accord> 
ing to tradition, the residence of the daughters of the Moorish 
kings. I have since visited the tower. It is not generally 
shown to strangers, though well worthy attention, for the 
interior is equal for beauty of architecture and delicacy of 
ornament, to any part of the palace. The elegance of its cen- 
tral hall with its marble fountain, its lofty arches and richly 
fretted dome; the arabesques and stucco work of the small, 
but well-proportioned chambers, though injured by time and 
aeglect, all accord with the story of its being anciently the 
^bode of royal beauty. 



74 TEE ALEAMBllA. 



1 



The little old fairy queen who lives under the staircase of 
the Alhambra, and frequents the evening tcrtulias of Dame 
Antonia, tells some fanciful traditions about three Moorish 
princesses who were once shut up in this tower by their father, 
a tyrant king of Granada, and were only permitted to ride out 
at night about the hills, when no one was permitted to come in 
their way, under pain of death. They still, according to her 
account, may be seen occasionally when the moon is in the 
full, riding in lonely places along the mountain side, on pal- ■ 
freys richly caparisoned, and sparkling with jewels, but they 7 
vanish on being spoken to. 

— But before I relate any thing farther respecting these prin- ■ 
cesses, the reader may be anxious to know something about 
the fair inhabitant of the tower with her head drest with^, 
flowers, who looked out from the lofty window. She provedji 
to be the newly married spouse of the worthy adjutant of ^• 
invalids; who, though well stricken in years, had had the 
courage to take to his bosom a young and buxom Andalusian 
damsel. May the good old cavalier be happy in his choice, 
and find the tower of the Princesses a more secure residence 
for female beauty than it seems to have proved in the time o| 
the Moslems, if we may believe the following legend. 



THE HOUSE OF THE WEATHERCOCK. 

On the brow of the lofty hiU of the Albaycin, the highest 
part of the city of Granada, stand the remains of what was 
once a royal palace, founded shortly after the conquest of 
Spain by the Arabs. It is now converted into a manufactory, 
and has fallen into such obscurity that it cost me much trouble 
to find it, notwithstanding that I had the assistance of the 
sagacious and all-knowing Mateo Ximenes. This edifice stiU 
bears the name by which it has been known for centuries^ 
namely, la Casa del Gallo de Viento ; that is, the House of the 
Weathercock. 

It was so called from a bronze figure of a warrior on horse- 
back, armed with shield and spear, erected on one of its tur- 
rets, and turning with every wind ; bearing an Arabic motto, 
which, translated into Spanish, was as follows : 



THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGEll. 75 

Diei el Sabio Aben Ilabuz 
'Que asi se defieude el Anduluz. 

In this wa}-, says Aben Ilabuz the wise, 
The Andalusiau his foe defies. 

This Aben Habuz was a captain who served in the invading 
army of Taric, and was left as alcayde of Granada. Ho is 
f supposed to have intended this warhke effigy as a perpetual 
Imemorial to the Moorish inhabitant:-j that surrounded aa they 
twere by foes, and subject to sudden invasion, their safety 
|depended upon being always ready for the field. 

Other traditions, however, give a different account of this 
Aben Habuz and his palace, and affirm that his bronze horse- 
man was originally a talisman of great virtue, though in after 
ages it lost its magic properties and degenerated into a weath^ 
ercock. The following are the traditions alluded to. 



THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER 

In old times, many hundred years ago, there was a Moorish 
king named Aben Habuz, who reigned over the kingdom of 
Granada. He was a retired conqueror, that is to say, one 
who, having in his more youthful days led a life of constant 
foray and depredation, now that he was grown old and super- 
annuated, " languished for repose, " and desired nothing more 
than to live at peace with aU the world, to husband his laurels, 
and to enjoy in quiet the possessions he had wrested from his 
neighbours. 

It so happened, however, that this most reasonable and 
pacific old monarch had young rivals to deal %vith— princes full 
of his early passion for fame and fighting, and who had some 
scores to settle which he had run up with their fathers ; he 
had also some turbulent and discontented districts of his own 
territories among the Alpuxarra mountains, which, during 
the days of his vigour, he had treated with a high hand ; and 
which, now that he languished for repose, were prone to riso 
in rebelHon and to threaten to march to Granada and drive 
him from his throne. To make the matter worse, as Granada 
is surrounded by wild and cra.c:gy mountains which hide the 
approach of an enemy, the unfortunate Aben Habuz was kept 
in a constant state of vigilance and alarm, not kMOwing in 
vvhat quarter hostihties might break out. 



76 TUE ALII AM BRA, ■ 

It was in vain that he built watch-towers on the mountains 
and stationed guards at every pass, with orders to make fires 
by night, and smoke by day, on the approach of an enemy. 
His alert foes would bafiie every precaution, and come break- 
ing out of some unthought-of defile, — ravage his lands beneath 
his very nose, and then make off vvdth prisoners and booty to 
the mountains. Was ever peaceable and retired conqueror iui 
a more uncomfortable predicament ! 

While the pacific Aben Habuz was harassed by these per-? 
plexities and molestations, an ancient Arabian physician ar-r 
rived at his court. His gray beard descended to his girdle, i 
and he had every mark of extreme age, yet he had travelledc 
almost the whole way from Egypt on foot, with no other aiddi 
than a staff marked with hieroglyphics. His fame had pre- 
ceded him. His name was Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub ; he was 
said to have lived ever since the days of Mahomet, and to be 
the son of Abu Ayub, the last of the companions of the prophet. 
He had, when a child, foUoAved the conquering army of Amru 
into Egypt, where he had remained many years studying the 
dark sciences, and particularly magic, among the Egyptian 
priests. It was moreover said that he had found out the secret 
of prolonging life, by means of which he had arrived to the 
great age of upwards of two centuries ; though, as he did not 
discover the secret until well stricken in years, he could only 
perpetuate his gray hairs and wrinkles. 

This wonderful old man was very honourably entertained 
by the king; who, like most superannuated monarchs, began ^ 
to take physicians into great favour. He would have assigned i 
him an apartment in his palace, but the astrologer preferred a 
cave in the side of the hill, wliich rises above the city of Gran 
ada, being the same on which the Alhambra has since been 
built. He caused the cave to be enlarged so as to form a 
spacious and lofty hall with a circular hole at the top, through 
which, as through a well, he could see the heavens and behold 
the stars even at mid-day. The wall of this h?Jl were covered 
with Egyptian hieroglyphics, with cabalistic symbols, and with I 
the figures of the stars in their signs. This hall he furnished = 
with many implements, fabricated under his direction by cun- 
ning artificers of Granada, but the occult properties of which 
were only known to himself. In a little while the sage Ibra 
him became the bosom counsellor of the king, to whom he ap- 
plied for advice m every emergency. Aben Habuz was once 
inveighing against the injustice of his neighbours, and bewails 



TllhJ LEGKMT) OF THE AUABIAN ASTllOLOG KIl. 77 

ing the restless vigilance he had to observe to guard himscli; 
against their invasions;— when he had finished, the astrologer 
remained silent for a moment, and then rephed, "Know, O 
king, that when I was in Egypt I beheld a great marvel devised 
jby a pagan priestess of old. On a mountain above the city of 
IBorsa, and overlooking the great valley of the Nile, was a 
[figure of a ram, and above it a figure of a cock, both of molten 
I brass and turning upon a pivot. Whenever the countiy was 
threatened with invasion, the ram would turn in the direction 
of the enemy and the cock would crow ; upon this the inhabi- 
tants of the city knew of the danger, and of the quarter from 
which it was approaching, and could take timely notice to 
guard against it." 

J "God is great!" exclaimed the pacific Aben Habuz ; "what 
Y treasm-e would be such a ram to keep an eye upon these 
mountains around nie, and then such a cock to crow in time of 
panger! Allah Achbar! how securely I might sleep in my 
[)alace Avith such sentinels on the top!" 

" Listen, O king," continued the astrologer gravely. "When 
lie victorious Amru (God's peace be upon him !) conquered the 
jity of Borsa, this talisman was destroyed ; but I was present, 
md examined it, and studied its secret and mystery, and can 
nake one of like, and even of greater virtues." 

" O A\ase son of Abu Ayub," cried Aben Habuz, "better were 
juch a talisman than all the watch-towers on the hills, and 
»ntinels upon the borders. Give me such a safeguard, and 
;he riches of my treasury are at thy command." 
I The astrologer inamediately set to work to gratify the wishes 
bf the monarch ; shutting himself up in his astrological hall, 
md exerting the necromantic arts he had learnt in Egypt, he 
summoned to his assistance the spirits and demons of the Nile. 
5y his command they transported to his presence a mummy 
from a sepulchral chamber in the centre of one of the Pj^ra- 
nids. It was the mummy of the priest vdio had aided by 
aaagic art in rearing that stupendous pile. 

The astrologer opened the outer cases of the mummy, and 
infolded its many wrappers. On the breast of the corpse was 
L book written in Chaldaic characters. He seized it with 
remblmg hand, then returning the mummy to its case, 
Tdered the demons to transport it again to its dark and silent 
epulchre in the Pyramid, there to await the final day of resur- 
ection and judgment. 

This book, say the traditions, was the book of knowledge 



78 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

given by God to Adam after his fall. It had been handed 
down from generation to generation, to King Solomon the 
Wise, and by the aid of the wonderful secrets in magic and aii; 
revealed m it, he had built the temple of Jerusalem. How it 
had come into the possession of the builder of the Pyramids, 
He only knows who knows all things. 

Instructed by this mystic volume, and aided by the genii i 
which it subjected to his command, the astrologer soon erected! 
a great tower upon the top of the palace of Aben Habuz, which a 
stood on the brow of the hiU of the Albaycin. The tower wasi? 
built of stones brought from Egypt, and taken, it is said, from a 
one of the Pyramids. In the upper part of the tower was a i 
circular hall, with windows looking toward every point of the 
compass, and before each window was a table, on which was 
arranged, as on a chess-board, a mimic army of horse and foot, 
with the effigy of the potentate that ruled in that direction ; allll 
carved of wood. To each of these tables there was a smallil 
lance, no bigger than a bodkin, on which were engraved certainii 
mysterious Chaldaic characters. This hall was kept constantly y 
closed by a gate of brass with a great lock of steel, the key ot\ 
which was in possession of the king. 

On the top of the tower was a bronze figure of a Moorishh 
horseman, fixed on a pivot, with a shield on one arm, and hiai 
lance elevated perpendicularly. The face of this horsemanil 
was towards the city, as if keeping guard over it ; but if any 
foe were at hand, the figure would turn in that direction and 
would level the lance as if for action. 

When this talisman was finished, Aben Habuz was all impa- 
tient to try its virtues ; and longed as ardently for an invasion 
as he had ever sighed after repose. His desire was soon grati- 
fied. Tidings were brought early one morning, by the sentinel 
appointed to watch the tower, that the face of the brazen horse- 
man was turned towards the mountains of Elvira, and that his 
lance pointed directly against the pass of Lope. 

"Let the drums and trumpets sound to arms, and aU Gran^ 
ada be put on the alert," said Aben Habuz. 

"O king," said the astrologer, "let not your city be dis- 
quieted, nor your warriors called to arms ; we need no aid of 
force to deliver you from your enemies. Dismiss your attend- 
ants and let us proceed alone to the secret hall ot the tower." \ 

The ancient Aben Habuz mounted the staircase of the tower, 
leaning on the arm of the stiU more ancient Ibrahim Ebn Abu ' 
Ayub. They unlocked the brazen door and entered. Tho ( 

■) 
I 



THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER 79 

window that looked towards the pass of Lope was open. "In 
this direction," said the astrologer, "lies the danger — approach, 

king, and behold the mystery of the table. " 

. King Abcn Habuz approached the seeming chess-board, on 
which were arranged the small wooden effigies; when lo! they 
were all in motion. The horses pranced and curveted, the 
warriors brandished their weapons, and there was a faint 
sound of drums and trumpets, and a clang of arms and neigh- 
;ing of steeds, but all no louder, nor more distinct, than the 
[hum of the bee or summer-fly in the drowsy ear of him who 
iies at noon-tide in the shade. 

"Behold, O king," said the astrologer, "a proof that thy en- 
emies are even now in the field. They must be advancing 
through yonder mountains by the pass of Lope. Would you 
produce a panic and confusion amongst them, and cause them 
po abandon their enterprise and retreat without loss of life, 
strike these effigies with the butt end of this magic lance ; but 
would you cause bloody feud and carnage among them, strike 
,svith the point." 

1 A livid streak passed across the countenance of the pacific 
Aben Habuz ; he seized the mimic lance with trembling eager- 
ness, and tottered towards the table ; his gray beard wagged 
^ith chuckhng exultation. "Son of Abu Ayub," exclaimed 
le, "I think we will have a little blood !" 

. So saying he thiiist the magic lance into some of the pigmy 
pffigies, and belaboured others with the butt end ; upon which 
;he former fell, as dead, upon the board, and the rest turning 
ipon each other, began, pell-mell, a chance-medley fight. 
[ It was with difficulty the astrologer could stay the hand of 
.he most pacific of monarchs, and prevent him from absolutely 
fsxterminating his foes. At length he prevailed upon him to 
eave the tower, and to send out scouts to the mountains by 
he pass of Lope. 

; They returned with the intelligence that a Christian army 

lad advanced through the heart of the Sierra, almost v/ithin 

ight of Granada, when a dissension having broken out among 

hem, they had turned their weapons against each other, and 

I jiter much slaughter, had retreated over the border. 

r Aben Habuz was transported with joy on thus proving the 

j fficacy of the tahsman. "At length," said he, "I shall lead 

I ■ life of tranquillity, and have all my enemies in my power. 

« |)h ! wise son of Abu Ayub, what can I bestow on thee in re* 

i yai'd for such a blessing ?" 



80 THE ALIJAMBRA. ^ 

"The wants of an old man and a philosopher, O king, are 
few and simple — grant me but the means of fitting up my cave 
as a suitable hermitage, and I am content. " 

" How noble is the moderation of the truly wise !" exclaimed 
Aben Habuz, secretly pleased at the cheapness of the recom- 
pense. He summoned his treasurer, and bade him dispense 
whatever sums might be required by Ibrahim to complete and 
f Lirnish his hermitage. 

The astrologer now gave orders to have various chambers 
hewn out of the solid rock, so as to form ranges of apartments 
connected with his astrological hall. These he caused to be 
furnished with luxurious ottomans and divans ; and the walls 
to be hung with the richest silks of Damascus. "I am an old 
man," said he, "and can no longer rest my bones on stone 
couches; and these damp walls require covering." 

He also had baths constructed and provided with all kinds of 
perfumery and aromatic oils; "for a bath," said he, "is neces- 
sary to counteract the rigidity of age, and to restore freshness 
and suppleness to the frame withered by study. " 

He caused the apartments to be hung with innumerable silver; 
and crystal lamps, which he filled Avith a fragrant oil preparedil 
according to a receipt discovered by him in the tombs of Egypt. 
This oil was perpetual in its nature, and diffused a soft radi- 
ance like the tempered light of day. "The light of the sun," 
said he, ' ' is too garish and violent for the eyes of an old man ; 
and the light of the lamp is more congenial to the studies of a 
philosopher." 

The treasurer of King Aben Habuz groaned at the sums 
daily demanded to fit up this hermitage, and he carried his 
complaints to the king. The royal word, however, was given 
--Aben Habuz shrugged his shoulders. — "We must have pa> 
tience," said he; "this old man has taken his idea of a philo 
sophic retreat from the interior of the Pyramids and the vast 
ruins of Egypt ; but all things have an end, and so will the 
furnishing of his cavern." 

The king was in the right ; the hermitage was at length com- 
plete, and formed a sumptuous subterranean palace. "I am 
now content," said Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub, to the treasurer- 
"I Avill shut myself up in my coll and devote my time to study. 
I desire nothing more, — nothing, — except a trifling solace tc 
amuse me at the intervals of mental labour. " 

" Oh ! wise Ibrahim, ask what thou wilt ; I am bound to fur* 
nish an that is necessary for thy solitude." 



THE LEGEND OF THE MIMUAN ASTIlOLOGEn. 81 

I **I would fain have then a few dancing women," said the 
philosopher. 

" Dancing women!" echoed the treasurer with surprise. 

"Dancmg women," replied the sage, gravely: "a few will 
bffice ; for I am an old man and a philosopher, of simple hab- 
its and easily satisfied. Let them, however, be young and fair 
|i0 look upon— for the sight of youth and beauty is refreshing 
io old age." 

I While the philosophic Ibrahim Ebn Ayub passed his time 
Ihus sagely in his hermitage, the pacific Aben Habuz carried 
|»n furious campaigns in effigy in his toAver. It was a glorious 
huig for an old man hlsie himself, of quiet habits, to have war 
aade easy, and to be enabled to amuse liimself in his chamber 
»y brushing away whole armies like so many swarms of flies. 
I'or a time he rioted in the indulgence of his humours, and 
[ven taunted and insulted his neighbours to induce them to 
jaake incursions ; but by degrees they grew wary from repeated 
isasters, until no one ventured to invade his territories. For 
liany months the bronze horseman remained on the peace 
btabhshment with his lance elevated in the air, and the 
brthy old monarch began to repine at the want of his ac- 
Ustomed sport, and to grow peevish at his monotonous tran- 
uillity. 

At lepgth, one day, the talismanic horseman veered suddenly 
[)und, and, lowering his lance, made a dead point towards the 
[fountains of Guadix. Aben Habuz hastened to his tower, but 
|ie magic table in that direction remained quiet— not a single 
larrior was in motion. Perplexed at the circumstance, he sent 
bth a troop of horse to scour the momitains and reconnoitre. 
bey returned after three days' absence. Eodovan, the captain 

the troop, addressed the king: "We have searched every 

ountain pass," said he, "but not a helm or spear was stirring. 

11 that we have found in the course of our foray was a Chris- 

^n damsel of surpassing beauty, sleeping at noon-tide beside 

puntain, whom we have brought away captive." 

"A damsel of surpassing beauty!" exclaimed Aben Habuz, 
|s eyes gleaming with animation: " let her be condu'jted into 
y presence." "Pardon me, O king!" replied Rodovan, "but 
warfare at present is scanty ; and yields but little harvest. 
d ho]-)ed this chance gleaning would have been allowed for 
services." 
Chance gleaning!" cried Aben Habuz. "What!— a damsel 

surpassing beauty ! By the head of my father ! it is the 



« 



g2 THE ALRA3IBRA. 

choice fruits of warfare, only to be garnered up into the royal 
keeping.— Let the damsel be brought hither instantly." 

The beautiful damsel was accordingly conducted into his 
presence. She was arrayed in the Gothic style, with all the 
luxury of ornament that had prevailed among the Gothic 
Spaniards at the time of the Arabian conquest. Pearls of 
dazzling whiteness were entwined with her raven tresses; and 
jewels sparkled on her forehead, rivalUng the lustre of her 
eyes. Ai-ound her neck was a golden chain, to which was 
suspended a silver lyre which hung by her side. 

The flashes of her dark refulgent eye were like sparks of fire 
on the withered, yet combustible breast of Aben Habuz, and 
set it in a flame. The swimnung voluptuousness of her gait 
made his senses reel. "Fairest of women," cried he, with 
rapture, " who and what art thou?"— 

" The daughter of one of the Gothic princes who lately ruled 
over this land. The armies oi my f atker have been destroyed 
as if by magic among these mountains, he has been driven into 
exile, and his daughter is a slave." 

"Be comforted, beautiful princess— thou art no longer a 
slave, but a sovereign; turn thine eyes graciously upon Aben 
Habuz, and reign over him and his dominions." 

"Beware, O king," whispered Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub; 
" this may be some spirit conjured up by the magicians of the 
Goths, and sent for thy undoing. Or it may be one of those j 
northern sorceresses, who assume the most seducing forms to | 
beguile the unwary. Methinks I read witchcraft in her eye, 
and sorcery in every movement. Let my sovereign beware- | 
this must be the enemy pointed out by the talisman." "Sor 
of Abu Ayub," replied the king, " you are a wise man and i , 
conjuror, I grant— but you are little versed in the ways G 
woman. In the knowledge of the sex, I will yield to no man 
no, not to the wise Solomon himself, notwithstanding th( 
number of his wives and his concubines. As to this damsel 
I sec much comfort in her for my old days, even such comfor 
as David, the father of Solomon, found in the society o 
Abishag the Shunamite." 

" Hearken, O king," rejoined the astrologer, suddenly chang 
ing his tone— "I have given thee many triumphs over th 
enemies, and by means of my talisman, yet thou hast neve 
given lAe share of the spoils ; grant me this one stray captiv 
to solace me in my retirement, and I am content. " 

" What 1" cried Aben Habuz, "more women! hast thou no j 



TIIK LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 83 

already dancing women to solace thee — what more wouldst 
thou desire." 

I "Dancing women, have I, it is true; but I have none that 
I sing; and music is a balm to old age.— This captive, I perceive, 
; beareth a silver lyre, and must be skilled in minstrelsy. Give 
i her to me, I pray thee, to soothe my senses after the toil of 
; study." 

The ire of the pacific monarch was kindled, and he loaded 
the philosopher with reproaches. The latter retired indig- 
nantly to his hermitage; but ere he departed, he again 
] warned the monarch to beware of his beautiful captive. 
"Where, in fact, is the old man in love that will listen to coun- 
isel? Aben Habuz had felt the fulFpower of the witchery of 
I the eye, and the sorcery of movement, and the more he gazed, 
the more he was enamoured. 

He resigned himself to the full sway of his passions. His 
:only study, was how to render himself amiable in the eyes of 
ithe Gothic beauty. He had not youth, it is true, to recom- 
mend him, but then he had riches ; and when a lover is no 
ilonger young, he becomes generous. The Zacatin of Granada 
!was ransacked for the most precious merchandise of the East. 
Bilks, jewels, precious gems and exquisite perfumes, all that 
iA.sia and Africa yielded of rich and rare, were lavished upon 
the princess. She received all as her due, and regarded them 
wJtli the indifference of one accustomed to magnificence. All 
kinds of spectacles and festivities were devised for her enter- 
tainment; minstrelsy, dancing, tournaments, bull-fights. — 
Granada, for a time, was a scene of perpetual pageant. The 
Gothic princess seemed to take a delight in causing expense, 
^s if she sought to drain the treasures of the monarch. There 
wevQ no bounds to her caprice, or to the extravagance of her 
ideas. Yet, notwithstanding all this munificence, the vener- 
• able Aben Habuz could not flatter himself that he had made 
I any impression on her heart. She never frowned on him, it is 
j :rue, but she had a singular w^ay of baffling his tender ad- 
vances. Whenever he began to plead his passion, she struck 
her silver lyre. There was a mystic charm in the sound : on 
nearing of it, an irresistible drowsiness seized upon the super 
'innuated lover, he fell asleep, and only woke when the tempo- 
'•ary fumes of passion had evai)orated. Still the dream of love 
tiad a bewitching poAver over his senses; so he continued to 
Ircam on ; w^hile aU Granada scoffed at his infatuation, and 
groaned at the treasures lavished for a song. 



84 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

At length a danger burst over the head of Aben Habuz, 
against which his tahsman yielded him no warning. A re- 
bellion broke out in the very heart of his capital, headed by 
the bold Eodovan, Aben Habuz was, for a time, besieged in 
his palace, and it was not without the greatest difficulty that 
he repelled his assailants and quelled the insurrection. 

He now felt himself compelled once more to resort to tho 
assistance of the astrologer. He found him still shut up in his 
hermitage, chewing the cud of resentment. "O wise son of 
Abu Ayub," said he, "what thou hast foretold, has, in some 
sort, come to pass. This Gothic princess has brought trouble 
and danger upon me." 

" Is the king then, disposed to put her away from him?" said 
the astrologer with animation. 

"Sooner would I part with my kingdom!" replied Aben 
Habuz. 

" What then is the need of disturbing me in my philosoph- 
ical retirement?" said the astrologer, peevishly. 

" Be not angry, O sagest of philosophers. I would fain have 
one more exertion of thy magic art. Devise some means by 
which I may be secure from internal treason, as well as out- 
ward war— some safe retreat, where I may take refuge and be 
at peace." 

The astrologer ruminated for a moment, and a subtle gleam 
shone from his eye under his busy eyebrows. 

"Thou hast heard, no doubt, O king," said he, "of the 
palace and garden of Irem, whereof mention is made in that' 
chapter of the Koran entitled ' the dawn of day.' " 

"I have heard of that garden, — marvellous things aree 
related of it by the pilgrims who visit Mecca, but I have 
thought them wild fables, such as those are prone to tell who 
visit remote regions." 

" Listen, O king, and thou shalt know the mystery of that! 
garden. In my younger days I was in Arabia the Happy 
tending my father's camels. One of them strayed away fromr 
the rest, and was lost. I searched for it for several days about! 
the deserts of Aden, until wearied and faint, I laid myselfii 
down and slept under a palm tree by the side of a scanty w-eU.l 
When I awoke, I found myself at the gate of a city. I enteredc 
and beheld noble streets and squares and market places, buti 
all were silent and without an inhabitant. I wa.ndered on; 
imtil I came to a sumx)tuous palace, with a garden adorned 
with fountains and fish-ponds; and groves and flowers; and 



THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN AISTHOLOU EU. Sf) 

orcnards laden with delicious finiit ; but still no one was to be 
seen. Upon which, appalled at this loneliness, I hastened to 
depart, and, after i!^suing foi'th at the gate of the city, I turned 
to look u])on the place, but it wab no longer to be seen, nothing 
but the silent desert extended before my eyes. 

" In the neighbourhood I mot with an aged dervise, learned 
in the traditions and secrets of tlie land, and related to him 
what had befallen me. ' This, ' said he, ' is the far-famed gar- 
den of Irem, one of the wonders of the desert. It only appears 
at times to some wanderer like thyself, gladdening him with 
the sight of towers and palaces, and garden walls overhimg 
with richly laden fruit trees, and then vanishes, leaving 
nothing but a lonely desert.— And this is the story of it: — In 
old times, when this country was inhabited by the Addiles, 
king ^beddad, the son of Ad, the great grandson of Noah, 
founded here a splendid city. When it was finished, and he 
saw its grandeur, his heai*t was puffed up with pride and arro- 
gance, and he determined to build a royal palace, with gardens 
that should rival all that was related in the Koran of the celes- 
tial paradise. But the curse of heaven fell upon him for his 
presumption. He and his subjects were swept from the earth, 
and his splendid city, and palace, and garden, were laid under 
a perpetual spell, that hides them from the humfan sight, ex- 
cepting that they are seen at intervals ; by way of keeping his 
sin in perpetual remembrance. ' 

*'This story, O king, and the wonders I had seen, ever dwell 
in my mind, and, in after years, when I had been in Egypt 
and made myself master of all kinds of magic spells, I deter- 
mined to return and visit the garden of Irem. I did so, and 
found it revealed to my instructed sight. I took possession of 
the palace of Sheddad, and passed several days in his mock 
paradise. The genii who watch ever the place, were obedient 
to my magic poAver, and revealed to me the spells by which 
■ the whole garden had been, as it were, conjiu-ed into existence, 
land by which it was rendered invisible. Such spells, O kinc', 
are witliin the scope of my art. What sayest thou? Wouldst 
ithou have a palace and garden like those of Irem, filled with 
all manner of delights, but hidden from the eyes of mortals?" 

"O wise son of Abu Ayub." exclaimed Aben Habuz, trem- 
bling with eagerness — '' Contrive me such a paradise, and ask 
any reward, even to the half of my kingdom." 

"Alas," replied the other, " thou knowcst I am an old man, 
and a philosopher, and easily satisfied ; all the reward I ask, is 



86 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

the first beast of burden, with its load, that shall enter the 
magic portal of the palace." 

The monarch gladly agreed to so moderate a stipulation, and 
the astrologer began his work. On the summit of the hill im- 
mediately above his subterranean hermitage he caused a great 
gateway or barbican to be erected ; opening through the centre 
of a strong tower. There was an outer vestibide or porch with 
a lofty arch, and within it a portal secured by massive gates. 
On the key-stone of the portal the astrologer, with his own 
hand, wrought the figure of a huge key, and on the key-stone 
of the outer arch of the vestibule, which was loftier than tliat 
of the portal, he carved a gigantic hand. These were potent 
talismans, over which he repeated many sentences in an un- 
known tongue. j 

When this gateway was finished, he shut himself up for two i 
days in his astrological hall, engaged in secret incantations; 
on the third he ascended the hill, and passed the whole day on 
its summit. At a late hour of the night, he came down and 
presented himself before Aben Habuz. " At length, king," 
said he, "my labour is accomplished. On the summit of the 
hill stands one of the most delectable palaces that ever the 
head of man devised, or the heart of man desired. It contains 
sumptuous halls and galleries, delicious gardens, cool fountains' 
and fragrant baths; in a word, the whole mountain is con-i 
verted into a paradise. Like the garden of Ircm, it is pro'> 
tected by a mighty charm, which hides it from the view and 
search of mortals, excepting such as possess the secret of its 
talismans." 

"Enough," cried Aben Habua, joyfully; " to-morrow morn- I 
ing, bright and early, we will ascend and take possession.' , 
The happy monarch scarcely slept that night. Scarcely had | 
the rays of the sun begun to play about the snowy summit oi 
the Sierra Nevada, when he mounted his steed, and accom 
panied only by a few chosen attendants, ascended a steep anc 
narrow road leading up the hill. Beside him on a white pal 
frey, rode the Gothic princess, her dress sparkling with jewels 
while round her neck was suspended her silver lyre. TIk 
astrologer walked on the other side of the king, assisting hi 
steps Vvdth his hieroglyphic staif , for he never mounted steed o 
any kind. 

Aben Habuz looked to see the towers of the promised palao i 
brightening a.bove him, and the embowered terraces of its gai '] 
dens stretching along the heights, but as yet, nothing of th ( 



THE LKGKND OF THE ARABIAN ASTllOLOGEH. 87 

kind was to be descried. *' That is the mystery and safeguard 
of the place," said the astrologer, "nothing can be discerned 
until you have passed the spell-boui:d gateway, and been ])ut 
in possession of the place." 

I As they approached the gateway, the astrologer paused, and 
! pointed out to the king the mystic hand and key carved upon 
the portal and the arch. "These," said he, "are the talismans 
which guard the entrance to this paradise. Until yonder hand 
shall reach down and seizs that key, neither mortal power, nor 
.magic artifice, can prcva.U against the lord of this mountain." 
i[ While Aben Habuii wati gazing with open mouth and silent 
wonder at these myiatic Uilismans, the palfrey of the princess 
proceeded on, and boi*e bcr in at the portal, to the very centre 

I fof the barbican. 

I I " Behold, " cried tho afe6?.^!iloger, * ' my promised reward ! - the 
first animal with its burdoii, that should enter the magic gate- 
way." 

1 Aben Habuz smiled i\h v;'iiat he considered a pleasantry of 
the ancient man ; but when he found liim to be in earnest, his 
gray beard trembled with indignation. 

\ "Son of Abu Ayub," said he, sternly, " what equivocation is 
ithis? Thou knowest the meaning of my promise, the first 
beast of burden, with its load, that should enter tliis poi'tal. 
Take the strongest mule in my stables, load it with the most 
precious things of my treasury, and it is tliine ; but dare not to 
raise thy thoughts to her, who is the delight of my heart." 
i "What need I of wealth," cried the astrologer, scornfully; 
"have I not the book of knovf ledge of Solomon the Wise, 
and through it, the command of the secret treasures of the 
•sarth? The princess is mine by right; thy royal word is 
pledged; I claim her as my own." 

. The princess sat upon her palfrey, in the prid<3 of youth 
and beauty, and a Hght smile of scorn curled her rosy hp, at 
this dispute between two gray beards for her charms. The 
w^rath of the monarch got the better of liis discretion. ' ' Base 
:3on of the desert," cried he, " thou mayest be master of many 
3-rts, but know me for thy master — and presume not to juggle 

, jsdth thy king." 

'I " My master !" echoed the astrologer, " my king ! The mon- 
irch of a mole-hill to claim sv^'ay over hmi vrho possesses the 
talismans of Solomxon. rarewell, Aben Plabuz ; reign over thy 
petty kingdom, and revel in thy paradise of fools— for me, X 

\ jfnll laugh ao thee in my philosophic retirement." 



.3 



88 TEE ALIIAMBEA. 

So saying, lie seized the bridle of the palfrey, smote the 
earth with his staff, and sank with the Gothic princess through 
the centre of the barbican. The earth closed over them, and 
no trace remained of the opening by which they had descended. 
Aben Habuz was struck dumb for a tune with astonishme7it. 
Eecovering himself he ordered a thousand workmen to dig 
with pickaxe and spade into the ground where the astrologei 
had di appeared. They digged and digged, but in vain; the 
flinty bosom of the liill resisted their implements ; or if theyj 
did penetrate a Uttle way, the earth filled in agani as fast asii 
they threw it out. Aben Habuz sought the mouth of the cav-? 
ern at the foot of the hill, leading to the subterranean palace 
of the astrologer, but it was no where to be found : where once'i 
had been an entrance, was now a solid surface of primeval 
rock. With the disappearance of Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayulil 
ceased the benefit of his talismans. The bronze horseman ree 
mained fixed with his face turned toward the hill, and his speaii^ 
pointed to the spot where the astrologer had descended, 
if there still hulked the deadhest foe of Aben Habuz. Fro: 
time to time the sound of music and the tones of a female voice 
could be faintly heard from the bosom of the hill, and a peasani 
one day brought word to the king, that in the preceding nighl 
he had found a fissure in the rock, by which he had crept m 
until he looked down into a subterranean hall, in which salt 
the astrologer on a magnificent divan, slumbering and nodding 
to the silver lyre of the princess, which seemed to hold a magi( 
sway over his senses. 

Aben Habuz sought for the fissure in the rock, but it was 
again closed. He renewed the attempt to unearth his rival 
but all in vain. The spell of the hand and key was too poten 
to be counteracted by human power. As to the summit of th( 
mountain, the site of the promised palace a.nd garden, it re 
mained a naked waste : either the boasted Elysium was bidder 
from sight by enchantment, or was a mere fable of the astrolo ' 
ger. The world charitably supposed the latter, and some use( 
to call the place "the king's folly," while others named it " thr 
fool's Paradise." 

To add to the chagrin of Aben Habuz, the neighbours, whon 
he had defied and taunted, and cut up at his leisure, whil' 
master of the talismanic horseman, finding him no longer pre 
tected by magic spell, made inroads into his territories fron^ 
all sides, and the remainder of the life of the most pacific o 
monarchs, was a tissue of turmoils. 



1 



J.r.CEM) OF THE TUllKK BKAUTIFUL PJu'XCFSSI'JS. Si) 

At length, Aben Habuz died and was buried. Ages ha^e 
1 since rolled away. The Alhambra has been built on the event- 
f fid mountain, and in some measure realizes the fabled delights 
of the garden of Irem. The spell -bound gateway still exists^ 
' protected, no doubt, by the mystic liand and key, and now 
forms the gate of justice, the grand entrance to the fortress. 
Under tho.t gatewaj^, it is said, the old astrologer remains in 
; dis subterranean hall ; nodding on his divan, lulled by the sil- 
ver lyre of the princess. 
} The old invalid sentinels, who mount guard at the gate, h^ar 
\ the strains occasionally in the summer nights, and, yielding to 
' their soporific power, doze quietly at their posts. Nay, so 
' drowsy an influence pervades the place, that even those who 
' watch Dy day, may generally be seen nodding on the stone 
• Denches of the barbican, or sleeping under the neighbouring 
trees ; so that it is, in fact, the dro\/siest military post in ail 
Chrisoendom. All this, say the legends, will endure; from 
age to age the princess will remain captive to the astrologer, 
' and the astrologer bound up in magi^j slumber by the princess, 
vmtil the last day; imless the mystic hand shall grasp the fated 
key, and dispei the whole charm of this enchanted mountain. 



LEGEND OF TlljP: THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 

In old times there reigned a Moorish king in Granada, whose 
iname was Mohamed, to which his subjects added the appella- 
ttion of el Haygari, or '' the ieit-handed." Some say he was so 
called, on account of nis being really more expert with his sin- 
ister, than his dexter hand; others, because he w^as prone to 
take everything by the wrong end ; or, in other words, to mar 
wherever he meddled. Certain it is, either through misfortune 
or mismanagement, he was continuahy in trouble. Thrice was 
he driven from his throne, and on one occasion barely escaped 
to Africa with his life, in the disguise of a lisherman. Still he 
u'as as brave as he v^as blundering, and, though left-handed, 
wielded his scmiitar to such purpose, that he each time re- 
established himself upon his throne, by dint of hard fighting. 
Instead, however, of learning wisdom from adversity, he 
hardened his necii, and stiifened his left-arm in wilfulness, 
rhe evils of a pubhc nature which he thus brought upon him- 



90 TUE ALUAMBRA. 

self and his kingdom, may be learned by those who will delve 
into the Arabian annals of Granada; the present legend deals 
but with his domestic policy. | 

As this Mohamed was one day riding forth, with a train ofl 
his courtiers, by the foot of the mountain of Elvira, he met al 
band of horsemen returning from a foray into the land of the*: 
Christians. They were conducting a long string of mules laden 
with spoil, and many captives of both sexes, among whom, the 
monarch was struck with the appearance of a beautiful damsel 
richly attired, who sat weeping, on a low palfrey, and heededi 
not the consoling words of a duenna, who rode beside her. 1 

The monarch was struck with her beauty, and on inquiring j; 
of the captain of the troop, found that she was the daughter of i 
the alcayde of a frontier fortress that had been surprised and i 
sacked in the course of the foray. ! 

Mohamed claimed her as his royal share of the booty, andi^ 
had her conveyed to his harem in the Alhambra. There every'l 
thmg was devised to soothe her melancholy, and the monarch, 
more and more enamoured, sought to make her his queen. 

The Spanish maid at first repulsed his addresses. He was 
an infidel— he 'was the open foe of her country— what was 
worse, he was stricken in years ! 

The monarch finding his assiduities of no avail, determined 
to enlist in his favour the duenna, who had been captured with 
the lady. She wa.s an Andalusian by birth, whose Christian 
name is forgotten, being mentioned in Moorish legends, by no 
other appellation than that of the discreet Cadiga — and dis- 
creet, in truth she was, as her whole history makes evident.! 
No sooner had the Moorish king held a httle private conversa- 
tion with her, than she saw at once the cogency of his reason- 
ing, and undertook his cause with her young mistress. 

" Go to, now !" cried she ; "what is there in all this to weep 
and wail about?— Is it not better to be mistress of this beautiful 
palace with all its gardens and fountains, than to be shut uf 
within your father's old frontier tower? As to this Mohamed 
being an infidel — what is that to the purpose? You marry liin: 
— not his religion. And if he is waxing a little old, the sooner 
will you be a widow and mistress of yourself. At any rate yoT 
are in his power — and must either be a queen or a slave. - 
When in the hands of a robber, it is better to sell one's mei 
chandies for a fair price, than to have it taken by main force. ^ 

The arguments of the discreet Cadiga prevailed. The Span 
ish lady dried her tears and became the spouse of Mohamec \^ 

A. 



^LKGKND OF TllK TUllKhJ BliJAUTIFUL PRINCKSSES. Ql 

|[ 

'he left-handed. She even conformed in appearance to the 

aith of her royal husband, and her discreet duenna iinmedi- 

tely became a zealous convert to the Moslem doctrines; it 
ras then the latter received the Arabian name of Cadiga, and 
ras permitted to remain in the confidential employ of her 
toistress. 

In due process of time, the Moorish king was made the 

roud and happy father of three lovely daughters, all born at; 
i birth. He could have wished they had been sons, but con- 
pled himself with the idea that three daughters at a birth, 
t 'ere pretty well for a man somewhat stricken in years, and 
ISft-handed. 

^As usual with all Moslem monarchs, he summoned liis 
^trologcrs on this happy event. They cast the nativities of 
|ie three princesses, and shook their heads. "Daughters, 
I king," said they, "are always precarious property; but 
kese will most need your watchfulness when they arrive at a 
larriageable age.,— At that time gather them under your 
ling, and trust them to no other guardianship." 

iMohamed the left-handed was acknowledged by his courtiers 
\ be a wise king, and was certainly so considered by hmiself. 
lie prediction of the astrologers caused him but little disquiet, 
tusting to his ingenuity to guard his daughters and outwit 
te fates. 

The threefold birth was the last matrimonial trophy of the 
lonarch; his queen bore him no more children, and died 
\thin a few years, bequeathing her infant daughters to his 
he, and to the fidelity of the discreet Cadiga. 

Many years had yet to elapse before the princesses would 
frive at that period of danger, the marriageable age. "It is 
god, however, to be cautious in time," said the shrewd mon- 
r li ; so he determined to have them reared in the royal castle 
c Salobrena. This was a sumptuous palace, Incrusted as it 
^ re im a powerful Moorish fortress, on the summit of a hill 
t xt overlooks the Mediterranean sea. 

[t was a royal retreat, in which the Moslem monarchs shut 

' -uch of their relations as might endanger their safety; 

> ing them aU kinds of luxuries and amusements, in the 

1 i-^t of which they passed their hves in voluptuous indolence. 

Here the princesses remained, immured from the world, but 
Brrounded by enjoyments; and attended by female slaves 
^10 anticipated their wishes. They had delightful .c^ardens 
f^ their recreation, filled with the rarest fi-uits and flowci-s. 



92 THE ALII AMUR A. 

with aromatic groves and perfumed baths. On three sides 
castle looked down upon a rich valley, enamelled with 
kinds of culture, and bounded by the lofty Alpuxarra mo 
tains ; on the other side it overlooked the broad sunny sea. 

In this delicious abode, in a propitious climate and un 
a cloudless sky, the three princesses grew up into wondi-^ 
beauty; but, though all reared alike, they gave early tok 
of diversity of character. Their names were Zayda, Zoray 
and Zorahayda ; and such was the order of seniority, for th 
had been precisely three minutes between their births, 

Zayda, the eldest, was of an intrepid spirit, and took 
lead of her sisters in every thing, as she had done in enter 
first into the world. She was curious and inquisitive, i 
fond of getting at the bottom of things. 

Zoray da had a great feeling for beauty, which was 
reason, no doubt, of her delighting to regard her own im 
ill a mirror or a fountain, and of her fondness for flowers i 
jewels, and other tasteful ornaments. 

As to Zorahayda, the youngest, she was soft and timid, ; 
extremely sensitive, with a vast deal of disposable tendern 
as was evident from her number of pet flowers, and pet bi] 
and pet annuals, all of which she cherished with the fonc 
care. Her amusements, too, were of a gentle nature, \ 
mixed up with musing and reveriCo She would sit for he 
in a balcony gazing on the sparlding stars of a summer nig 
or on the sea when ht up by the moon, a,nd at such times 
song of a fisherman faintly heard from the beach, or the n( 
of an arrafia or Moorish flute from some gliding bark, sufii 
to elevate her feelings into ecstasy. The least uproar of 
elements, however, filled her with disma^y, and a clap of th 
der was enough to throw her into a swoon. 

Years moved on serenehf , and Cadiga, to whom the p; 
cesses were confided, was faithful to her trust and atten 
them with unremitting care. 

The castle of Salobrena, as has been said, was built upcj 
hill on the sea coast. One of the exterior walls straggled dc * 
the profile of the hill, until it reached a jutting rock overhs ? 
ing the sea, with a narrov/ sandy beach at its foot, laved 
the rippling billows. A small watch tower on this rock .' 
been fitted up as a pavilion, with latticed windows to ad 
the sea breeze. Here the princesses used to pass the su] 
hours of mid-day. 

The curious Zayda was one day seated at one of the windt' 



LECfKND OF TllK TIIUKE DKAUTIFUL PRINCESSES;. 93 

f the pa\ilion, as her sisters, rccHiicd on ottomans, were tak- 
ig the siesta, or noon-tide shnnber. Her attention had been 
ttracted to a galley, which came coasting along, with meas- 
red strokes of the oar. As it drew near, she observed that it 
ras filled with armed men. The galley anchored at the foot 
f tlie tower: a number of Moorisli soldiers landed on the nar- 
3w beach, conducting several Christian prisoners. The curi- 
as Zayda awakened her sisters, and all three peeped cau- 
ously through the close jalousies of the lattice, which 
jreencd them from sight. Among the prisoners were three 
panish cavaliers, richly dressed. They were in the flower of 
Duth, and of noble presence, and the lofty manner in which 
ley carried themselves, though loaded with chains and sur- 
jundod with enemies, bespoke the grandeur of their souls, 
be princesses gazed with intense and breathless interest, 
ooped up as they had been in this castle among female at- 
ndants, seeing nothing of the male sex but black slaves, or 
e rude fishermen of the sea coast, it is not to be wondered 
1, that the appearance of three gallant cavaliers in the pride 
i\ youth and manly beauty should produce some commotion 
(I their bosoms. 

ij!*' Did ever nobler being tread the earth, than that cavalier in 
mson?" cried Zayda, the eldest of the sisters. "See how 
udly he bears himself, as though all around him were his 
ves!" 

'But notice that one in green," exclaimed Zorayda; "what 
ce ! what elegance ! Avhat spirit !" 
e gentle Zorahayda said nothing, but she secretly gave 
erence to the cavalier in green, 
finie princesses remained gazing until the prisoners were out 
sight; then heaving long-drawn sighs, they turned round, 
kcd at each other for a moment, and sat down musing and 
ive on their ottomans. 

e discreet Cadiga found them in this situation; they re- 
to her what they had seen, and even the withered heart 
he duenna was warmed. " Poor youths!" exclaimed she, 
U warrant their captivity makes many a fair and high-born 
ly's heai-t ache in their native land ! Ah, my children, you 
VQ little idea of the life these cavaliers lead in their own 
intry. Such prankling at tournaments! such devotion to 
I ladies! such courting and serenading!" 
Tie curiosity of Zayda was fully aroused. She was in- 
iable in her inquiries, and drew from the duenna the most 



94 THE ALIIAMBEA. 

animated i:)ic-tures of the scenes of her youthful days an( 
native land. The beautiful Zorayda bridled up, and slyly re 
garded herself in a mirror, when the theme turned upon th< 
charms of the Spanish ladies ; while Zorahayda suppressed j 
struggling sigh at the mention of moonlight serenades. 

Every day the curious Zayda renewed her inquiries; ant 
every day the sage duenna repeated her stories, which wer 
listened to with unmoved interest, though frequent sighs, b; 
her gentle auditors. The discreet old woman at length awati 
ened to the mischief she might be doing. She had been ac; 
customed to think of the princesses only as cbildren, but the;; 
had imperceptibly ripened beneath her eye, and now bloome 
before her three lovely damsels of the marriageable age. — It i 
time, thought the duenna, to give notice to the king. | 

Mohamed the left-handed was seated one morning on 
divan in one of the court halls of the Alhambra, when a nobJ 
arrived from the fortress of Salobreiia, with a message froi 
the sage Cadiga, congratulating him on the anniversary of h 
daughters' birth-day. The slave at the same time presented 
delicate little basket decorated with floAvers, within which, o 
a couch of vine and fig leaves, lay a peach, an apricot, and 
nectarine, with their bloom and down, and dewy sweetnes 
upon them, and all in the early stage of tempting ripenes 
The monarch was versed in the oriental language of fruits an! 
flowers, and readily divined the meaning of this emblematic; 
offering. 

"So," said he, "the critical period pointed out by the a 
trologers is arrived. — My daughters are at a marriageable ag 
\^7hat is to be done? They are shut up from the eyes of men,- j 
they are under the eye of the discreet Cadiga— all very good 
but still they are not under my own eye, as was prescribed I 
the astrologers. — 'I must gather them under my wing, ai , 
trust to no other guardianship.' " I 

So saying, ne ordered that a tower of the Alhambra shou 
be prepared for their reception, and departed at the head 
his giiards for the fortress of Salobreiia, to conduct them hot 
in person. 

About three years had elapsed since Mohamed had behc 
his daughters, and he could scarcely credit his eyes at t 
wonderful change which that small space of time had made 
their appearance. During the interval they had passed th 
wondrous boundary line in female life, which separates t 
crude, unformed, and thoughtless girl from the bloomin 



I LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 95 

blushing, meditative woman. It is like passing from the flat, 
bleak, uninteresting plains of La Mancha to the voluptuous 
valleys and swelling hills of Andalusia. 

Zayda was tall and finely formed, with a lofty demeanour 
and a penetrating eye. She entered with a stately and decided 
step, and made a profound reverence to Mohamed, treating 
hmi more as her sovereign than her father. Zorayda was of 
the middle height, with an alluring look and swimming gait, 
and a sparkling beauty heightened by the assistance of the 
toilette. She approached her father with a smile, kissed his 
band, and saluted him with several stanzas from a popular 
Aj-abian poet, with which the monarch was dehghted. Zora- 
aayda was shy and timid; smaller than her sisters, and with 
I beauty of that tender, beseeching kind which looks for fond- 
less and protection. She was little fitted to command like 
iier elder sister, or to dazzle hke the second; but was rather 
ormed to creep to the bosom of manly affection, to nestle 
yithin it, and be content. She drew near her father with a 
,imid and almost faltering step, and would have taken his 
land to kiss, but on looking up into his face, and seeing it 
►earning with a paternal smile, the tenderness of her nature 
♦roke forth, and she threw herself upon his neck. 

Mohamed, the left-handed, surveyed his blooming daughters 
7ith mingled pride and perplexity; for while he exulted in 
heir charms, he bethought hmiself of the prediction of the 
strologers. "Three daughter.? !— three daughters!" muttered 
;e, repeatedly to himself, "and all of a marriageable age! 
fere's tempting hesperian fruit, that requires a dragon watch !" 

He prepared for his return to Granada, by sending heralds 
efore him, commanding every one to keep out of the road by 

hich he was to pass, and that all doors and windows should 
3 closed at the approach of the princesses. This done, he set 

)rth escorted by a troop of black horsemen of hideous aspect, 
ad clad in shining armour. 

I The princesses rode beside the king, closely veiled, on beauti- 
■ il white palfreys, with velvet caparisons embroidered with 
i M, and sweeping the ground ; the bits and stirrups were of 
ii'ld, and the silken bridles adorned with pearls and precious 
»<,ones. The palfreys were covered with little silver bells that 
i.ade the most musical tinkling as they ambled gently along. 

.'o to the unlucky wight, however, who hngered in the way 
^'len lie heard the tinkling of these bells -the guards were or- 
tired to cut him down without mercy. 



9G ■ THE ALIIAMBRA. 

The cavalcade was drawing near to Granada, when it over- • 
took, on the banks of the river Xenil, a small body of Moorish i 
soldiers, with a convoy of prisoners. It was too late for the ) 
soldiers to get out of the way, so they threw themselves on i 
their faces on the earth, ordering their captives to do the like. . 
Among the prisoners, were the three identical cavaliers whomi 
the princesses had seen from the pavilion. They either did I 
not understand, or were too haughty to obey the order, andl 
remained standing and gazing upon the cavalcade as it ap-- 
proached. 

The ire of the monarch was kindled at this flagrant defiance^ 
of his orders, and he determined to punish it with his own'^ 
hand. Drawing his scimitar and pressing forward, he was^ 
about to deal a left-handed blow, that would have been fatall 
to at least one of the gazers, when the princesses crowdedi 
round him, and miplored mercy for the prisoners ; even the 
timid Zorahayda forgot her shyness and became eloquent in 
their behaK. Mohamed paused, with uplifted scimitar, whena 
the captain of the guard threw liimself at his feet. " Let notjti 
your majesty," said he, "do a deed that may cause greatlt^ 
scandal throughout the kingdom. These are three brave andl 
noble Spanish knights who have been taken in battle, fightings] 
hke lions; they are of high bu'th, and may bring great ran-j 
soms." 

"Enough," said the king; "I will spare their lives, buti; 
punish their audacity — let them be taken to the Vermilion 
towers and pu^ to hard labour." j 

Mohamed was making one of his usual left-handed blunders.J5| 
In the tumult and agitation of this blustering scene, the veil^f, 
of the three princesses had been thrown back, and the radii; 
ance of their beauty revealed ; and in prolonging the parley^ 
the king had given that beauty time to have its full effect J 
In those days, people fell in love much more suddenly thaii 
at present, as all ancient stories make manifest; it is nol 
a matter of wonder, therefore, that the hearts of the three 
cavaliers Avere completely captivated; especially as grati- 
tude was added to their admiration: it is a little singular, 
ho V.' ever, though no less certain, that each of them was 
enraptured with a several beauty. As to the princesses, 
they were more than ever struck with the noble demeanour 
of the captives, and cherished in their hearts all that they 
had heard of their valour and noble lineage. 

The cavalcade reouniGd its march; the three princesses 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PltlNUESSES. 97 

rode pensively along on their tinkling palfreys, now and 
then stealing a glance behind in search of the Christian 
captives, and the latter were conducted to their allotted 
prison in the Verniihon towers. 

. The residence provided for the princesses, wa« one of the 
npst dainty that fancy could devise. It was in a tower 
bmewhat apart from the mam palace of the Alhambra 
hough connected with it by the main waU that encircled 
he whole summit of the hill. On one side it looked into 
he mterior of the fortress, and had at its foot a smaU gar- 
en filled with the rarest flowers. On the other side it over- 
boked a deep embowered ravine, that separated the grounds 
|f the Alhambra from those of the Gk)neraliffe. The interior 
f the tower was divided into small fairy apartments, beauti- 
illy ornamented in the light Arabian style, surroimding a 
)fty hall, the vaulted roof of wliich rose almost to the summit 
f the tower. The walls and ceihug of the hall were adorned 
ith arabesques and fret- work sparkling with gold, and Avith 
Hlliant pencilhng. In the centre of the marble pavement, 
^as an alabaster fountam, set round with aromatic shrubs 
3d flowers, and throwing up a jet of water that cooled the 
hole edifice and had a lulling sound. Round the hall were 
ispended cagea of gold and silver wire, containing singing 
rds of the finest plumage or sweetest note. 
The princesses having been represented as always cheerful 
hen in the castle of Salobreiia, the king had expected to 
e them enraptured with the Alhambra. To his surprise, 
)wever, they began to pine, and grew green and melancholy,' 
[id dissatisfied with every thing around them. The flowera 
elded them no fragrance; the song of the nightingale dis- 
rbed their night's rest, and they were out of all i)atience 
th the alabaster fountain, with its eternal drop, drop, and 
lash, splash, from mormng till night, and from night till 
Jming. 

rhe king, who was somewhat of a testy, tyrannical old man, 
^k this at first in high dudgeon; but he reflected that liis 
ughters had arrived at an age when the female mind 
pands and its desires augment. "They are no longer 
ildren,"said he to himself; "they are women grown, and 
imre suitable objects to interest them." He put in requisi- 
n, therefore, all the dress makers, and the jeweilei-s, and 
J artificers in gold and silver throughout the Zacatin of 
ODada, and the princesses were overwhelmed with robes 



98 THE ALUAMBRA. 

of silk, and of tissue and of brocade, and cachemire shawlg' 
and necklaces of pearls, and diamonds, and rings, and brace 
lets, and anklets, and all manner of precious tilings. 

All, however, was of no avail. The princesses continue^ 
pale and languid in the midst of their finery, and looked hk 
three bhghted rose buds, drooping from one stalk. The kin 
was at his wit's end. He had in general a laudable confident 
in his own judgment, and never took advice. "The whiix: 
and caprices of three marriageable damsels, however, ai 
suflacient," said he, "to puzzle the shrewdest head."— So, fc 
once in his hfe, he called in the aid of counsel. 

The person to whom he apphed was the experienced duennsi 

" Cadiga," said the king, " I know you to be one of the moi 
discreet women in the whole world, as well as one of the moii 
trustworthy ; for these reasons, I have always continued yc( 
about the persons of my daughters. Farthers cannot be tc 
wary in whom they repose such confidence. I now wish yc 
to find out the secret malady that is preying upon the priH 
cesses, and to devise some means of restoring them to healf 
and cheerfulness." 

Cadiga promised implicit obedience. In fact, she kne 
more of the malady of the princesses than they did thei 
selves. Shutting herself up with them, however, she ende 
voured to insinuate herseK into their confidence. 

"My dear cliildren, what is the reason you are so dism 
and doAvncast, in so beautiful a place, where you have eve] 
thing that heart can wish?" 

The princesses looked vacantly round the apartment, ai 
sighed. 

"What more, then, would you have? Shall I get you t: 
wonderful parrot that talks all languages, and is the delight 
Granada?" 

' ' Odious !" exclaimed the princess Zayda. ' ' A horrid screai 
ing bu'd that chatters words without ideas! One must 
without brams to tolerate such a pest." 

' ' Shall I send for a monkey from the rock of Gibraltar, 
divert you with his antics?" 

"A monkey! faugh!" cried Zorayda, "the detestable miir 
of man. I hate the nauseous animal." 

"What say you to the famous black singer, Casern, fro 
the royal harem in Morocco. They say he lias a voice as fi] 
as a woman's." 

"I am terrified at the sight of these black slaves," said tl 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 99 

idelicate Zorahayda; "besides, I have lost aU relish for 
music. " 

''Ah, my child, you would not say so," replied the old 
^oman, slyly, "had you heard the music I heard last even- 
ing, from the three Spanish cavaliers whom we met on our 
lOurney.-But bless me, children! what is the matter that 
jrou blush so, and are in such a flutter ?" 

"Nothmg, nothing, good mother, pray proceed " 

"WeU-as I was passing by the Vermilion towers last 
5venmg, I saw the three cavaliers resting after their dav's 
abour One was playing on the guitar so gracefully, and 
ihe others sang by turns-and they did it in such style that 
rhe very guards seemed like statues or men enchanted Allah 
orgive me, I could not help being moved at hearing the sonars 
f my native country. -And then to see three such noble and 
landsome youths in chains and slavery." 
I Here the kind-hearted old woman could not restrain her tears 
Perhaps, mother, you could manage to procure us a sight 

these cavaliers," said Zayda. 

"I think," said Zorayda, "a little music would be quite 
ivivmg." ^ 

t^l h'""'' f °'?!?,*y'^^ «'-'•'* nothing, but throw her arms 
mnd the neck of Cadiga. 

"Mercy on me .'"exclaimed the discreet old woman • "what 
you talking of, my children ? Your father would be the 
.ath of us all, if he heard of such a thing. To be sure,lhese 
tvahers are evidently well-bred and high-minded ycuths-but 
hat of that! .hey are the enemies of our faith, and you must 
>t even think of them, but with abhorrence " 
There is an admirable intrepidity in the female wiU, particu- 
rly about the marriageable age, which is not to be deterred 
^dangers and prohibitions. The princesses hung round their 
^uenna and coaxed and entreated, and declared that a re- 
gal would break their hearts. What could she do? She was 
ell "'^^* discreet old woman in the whole world and 
eof the most faithful servants to the king- but was she to 
5 three beautiful prmcesses break their hearts for the mere 
Ming of a guitar? Beside, though she had been so long 
long the Moors, and changed her faith, in hnitation of her 
stress like a trusty follower, yet she was a Spaniard born, 
i had th. Imgenngs of Christianity in her heart. So she sei 

tifi^ ^^^^^^^ ^""^^ *^® "^'^^^^ ^^ *^e princesses might be 



^QQ THE ALHAMBRA. 

The Christian captives confined in the Vermilion towers, 
were under the charge of a big-whiskered, broad-shouldered 1 
renegado, called Hussein Baba, who was reported to have a 
most itching palm. She went to him, privately, and slippmg, 
a broad piece of gold into his hand, " Hussein Baba," said she, 
"my mistresses, the three pruicesses, who are shut up in th€( 
tower, and in sad want of amusement, have heard of the musi 
cal talents of the three Spanish cavaliers, and are desirous ol 
hearing a specunen of their skill. I am sure you are too kmdl 
hearted to refuse them so innocent a gratification." 

" What, and to have my head set grinning over the gate 0:1 
my own tower— for that would be the reward, if the kin|( 
should discover it." 

"No danger of any thing of the kind; the affair may b«ji 
managed so that the whim of the princesses may be gratified] 
and their father be never the wiser. You know the deep rai 
vine outside of the walls, that passes immediately below thi 
tower. Put the three Christians to work there, and at the in 
tervals of their labour let them play and sing, as if for thei, 
own recreation. In this way, the princesses will be able to heai 
them from the wmdows of the tower, and you may be sure O' 
their paying well for your comphance." 

As the good old woman concluded her harangue, she kmdl;! 
pressed the rough hand of the renegado, and left within it aEi 
other piece of gold. ; 

Her eloquence was irresistible. The very next day the threi 
cavahers were put to work in the ravine. During the noor 
tide heat when their fellow labourers were sleepmg m tb 
shade, and the guard nodded drowsily at his post, they seate 
themselves among the herbage at the foot of the tower, an 
sang a Spanish roundelay to the accompaniment of the guita 

The glen was deep, the tower was high, but their voices roj 
distinctly in the stillness of the summer noon. The princess( 
listened from their balcony ; they had been taught the Spams 
language by their duenna, and were moved by the tendernei j 
of the song. 

The discreet Cadiga, on the contrary, was terribly shocke- 
" AUah preserve us," cried she, "they are singing a love ditt j 
addressed to yourselves,— did ever mortal hear of such auda | 
ity? I will run to the slave master and have them sound 
bastinadoed." . . 

" What, bastinado such gallant cavaliers, and for smgmg f 
charmingly?" The three beautiful princesses were filled wi. 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 101 

hon'or at the idea. With all her virtuous indignation, the good 
old woman was of a placable nature and easily appeased. Be- 
side, the music seemed to have a beneficial effect upon her 
I young mistresses. A rosy bloom had already come to their 
j checks, and their eyes began to sparkle. She made no further 
objection, therefore, to the amorous ditty of the cavaliers. 

When it was finished, the princesses remained silent for a 
time; at length Zorayda took up a lute, and with a sweet, 
though faint and trembling voice, warbled a little Arabian air, 
the burden of which was, "The rose is concealed among her 
leaves, but she listens with delight to the song of the nightin- 
j|gale." 

From this time forward the cavaliers worked almost daily in 

«l{the ravine. The considerate Hussein Baba became more and 

ijmore indulgent, and daily more prone to sleep at his post. 

; For some time a vague intercourse was kept up by popular 

; songs and romances ; which in some measure responded to each 

3ther, and breathed the feelings of the parties. By degrees 

.the princesses showed themselves at the bMccny, when they 

bould do so without being perceived by the guards. They con- 

fe'ersed with the cavaliers also by means of flowers, with the 

ijymbolical language of which they were mutually acquainted : 

;he difficidties of their intercourse added to its charms, and 

itrengthened the passion thoy had so singularly conceived ; for 

ove delights to struggle Vvdth difficulties, and thrives the most 

lardily on the scantiest soil. 

The change effected in the looks and spirits of the princesses 
»y this secret intercourse, surprised and gratified the left- 
landed king ; but no one was more elated than the discreet 
padiga, w^ho considered it all owing to her able manage- 
lent. 

At length there was an interruption in this telegraphic cor> 
spondence, for several days the cavaliers ceased to mako 
leir appearance m the glen. The three beautifid princesses 
K)ked out from the tower in vain. — In vain they stretched 
leii' swan-like necks from the balcony ; in vain they sang like 
iptive nightingales in their cage ; nothing was to be seen of 
leir Christian lovers, not a note responded from the groves. 
he discreet Cadiga sallied forth in quest of intelligence, and 
K)n returned with a face full of trouble. " Ah, my children !" 
led she, " I saw what all this would come to, but you would 
,ve your way ; you may now hang up your lutes on the ^vil- 
ws. The Spanish cavaKers are ransomed by their families; 



302 THE ALHAMBUA, 

they are down in Granada, and preparing to return to theit 
native country." 

The three beautiful princesses were in despair at the tidmgs. 
The fair Zayda was indignant at the shght i)ut upon them, in 
being thus deserted without a parting word. ZoraydiL rung her 
hands and cried, and looked in the glass, and wiped away he? 
tears, and cried afresh. The gentle Zorahayda leaned over the - 
balcony, and wept in silence, and her tears fell drop by drop, , 
among the flowers of the bank where the faithless cavaliorai 
had so often been seated. ' 

The discreet Oadiga did all in her power to soothe their sor- -I 
row. " Take comfort, my children," said she, " this is nothing,^ 
when you are used to it. This is the way of the world. Ah, 
when you are as old as I am, you will know how to value these 
men. I'll warrant these cavaliers have their loves among the 
Spanish beauties of Cordova and Seville, and will soon be sere-'- 
nading under their balconies, and thinking no more of the 
Moorish beauties in the Alhambra.— Take comfort, therefore, 
my children, and drive them from your hearts." 

The comforting words of the discreet Cadiga only redoubledl 
the distress of the princesses, and for two days they continued-! 
inconsolable. On tiie morning of the third, the good old woman 
entered their apartment all ruffling with indignation. 

"Who would have believed such insolence in mortal man?" 
exclaimed she, as soon as she could find words to express her- 
self; "but I am rightly served for having connived at this de- 
ception of your worthy father — never talk more to me of your 
Spanish cavaliers." 

"Why, what has happened, good Cadiga?" exclaimed the 
princesses, in breathless anxiety. 

"What has happened? treason has happened!— or what is 
ahnost as bad, treason has been proposed — and to me— the 
faithfulest of subjects— the trustiest of duennas— j^es, my chil- 
dren — the Spanish cavaliers have dared to tamper with me;' 
that I should persuade you to fly with them to Cordova, and 
become their wives." 

Here the excellent old woman covered her face with hei 
hands, and gave way to a violent burst of grief and mdigna 
tion. 

The three beautiful princesses turned pale and red. and trem ' 
bled, and looked down; and cast shy looks at each other, hu\ 
said nothing : meantime, the old woman sat rocking backwax-d 
and forward in violent agitation, and now and then breakinfc « 

-I 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 1()3 

)ut into exclamations— "That ever I should live to be so in 
julted — I, the faithf ulest of servants !" 

At length the eldest princess, who had most spirit, and alwaya 
ook the lead, approacJied her, and laying her hand upon her 
ihoulder— " Well, mother," said she, "supposing we were wili- 
ng to fly with these Christian cavaliers— is such a thing pos 
ible?" 

The good old woman paused suddenly in her grief, and loolc- 
Qg up— "Possible!" echoed she, "to be sure it is possible, 
lave not the cavaliers already bribed Hussein Baba, the rene- 
■ado captain of the guard, and arranged the whole plan?— But 
hen to think of deceiving your father— your father, who has 
laced such confidence in me?" 

Here the worthy old woman gave way to a fresh burst of 
rief, and began again to rock backwards and forwards, and to 
(rring her hands. 

But our father has never placed any confidence in us," said 
le eldest princess; "but has trusted to bolts and bars, and 
■eated us as captives." 

"Why, that is true enough," replied the old woman, again 
msing in her grief— "He has indeed treated you most unrea- 
nably. Keeping you shut up here to waste your bloom in a 
oping old tower, like roses left to wither in a flower jar. But 
en to fly from your native land." 

"And is not the land we fly to, the native land of our mother-, 
here we shall live in freedom?— and shall we not each have a 
>uthful husband in exchange for a severe old father?" 
"Why, that again is all very true -and your father, I must 
nfess, is rather tyrannical.— But what then"— relapsing into 
jr grief— "would you leave me behind to bear the brunt of 
s vengeance?" 

"By no means, my good Cadiga. Cannot you fly with us?" 
"Very true, my chfld, and to tell the truth, when 1 talked 
e matter over with Hussein Baba, he promised to take care 
me if I would accompany you in your flight : but then, be- 
ink you, my children ; are you willing to renounce the faith 
your father?" 

"The Christian faith was the original faith of our mother,' 
id the eldest princess; "I am ready to embrace it; and so I 
a sure are my sisters." 

"Right again!" exclaimed the old woman, brightening up. 
[t was the original faith of your mother; and bitterly did she 
aient, on her death-bed, that she had renounced it. I prom- 



104 THE ALHAMBRA. .| 

ised her then to take care of your souls, and I am rejoiced td\ 
see that fchey are now in a fair way to be saved. Yes, my chil- 
dren; I too was bom a Christian — and have always been a 
Christian in my heart ; and am resolved to return to the faith,. 
I have talked on the subject with Hussein Baba, who is a Span4 
iard by birth, and comes from a place not far from my nativec 
town. He is equally anxious to see his own country and to bee 
reconciled to the church, and the cavahers have promised thati 
if we are disposed to become man and wife on returning to outj 
native land, they will provide for us handsomely." 

In a word, it appeared that this extremely discreet and provi4 
dent old woman had consulted with the cavahers and the rene-) 
gado, and had concerted the whole plan of escape. The eldesti 
princess immediately assented to it, and her example as usuali 
determined the conduct of her sisters. It is true, the youngest' 
hesitated, for she was gentle and tunid of soul, and there wa^ 
a struggle in her bosom between fihal feeling and youthful^ 
passion. The latter however, as usual, gained the victory, and( 
with silent tears and stifled sighs she prepared herself foi; 
flight. 

The rugged hiU on which the Alhambra is built was in olcjij 
times perforated with subterranean passages, cut through tb 
rock, and leading from the fortress to various parts of the cit 
and to distant sally-ports on the banks of the Darro and t 
Xenil. They had been constructed at different times, by tb 
Moorish kings, as means of escape from sudden insurrection, or 
of secretly issuing forth on private enterprises. Many of them 
are now entirely lost, while others remain, partly choked uf 
with rubbish, and partly walled up — monuments of the jealoue 
precautions and warlike stratagems of the Moorish government.; 
By one of these passages, Hussein Baba had undertaken tc 
conduct the princesses ti > a sally-port beyond the walls of the 
city, where the cavaliers were to be ready with fleet steeds tc 
bear them all over the borders. 

The appointed night arrived. The tower of the princesses 
had been locked up as usual, and the Alhambra was buried ir 
deep sleep. Towards midnight the discreet Cadiga listenec 
from a balcony of a window that looked into the garden i 
Hussein Baba, the renegade, was already below, and gave the; 
appointed signal. The duenna fastened the end of a ladder o (j 
ropes to the balcony, lowered it into the garden, and descended , 
The two eldest princesses followed her T^^ith beating hearts; buljfe 
when it came to the tuvn of the youngest princess, Zorahayda, p 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCFSSES. 105 

jshe hesitated and trembled. Several times she ventured a deli- 
cate little foot upon the ladder, and as often drew it back; 
while her poor little heart fluttered more and more the longer 
8he delayed. She cast a wistful look back into the silken cham- 
ber ; she had lived in it, to be sure, like a bird in a cage, but 
kvitliin it she was secure— who could not tell what dangei-s 
imiglit beset her should she flutter forth into the wide world? 
■Now she bethought her of her gallant Christian lover, and her 
ittle foot was instantly upon the ladder, and anon she thought 
)f her father, and shrunk back. But fruitless is the attempt to 
iescribe the conflict in the bosom of one so young, and tender, 
md loving, but so timid and so ignorant of the world. In vain 
ler sisters implored, the duenna scolded, and the renegado 
>lasphemed beneath the balcony. The gentle httle Moorish 
naid stood doubting and wavering on the verge of elopement ; 
empted by the sweetness of the sin, but terrified at its perils. 

Every moment increased the danger of discovery. A distant 
ramp was heard.— " The patrols are Avalking the rounds," cried 
he renegado; "if we linger longer we perish— princess, de- 

1*^cend instantly, or we leave you. " 
Zorahayda was for a moment in fearful agitation, then loos- 
ning the ladder of ropes, with desperate resolution she flung 
b from the balcony. 

"It is decided, "cried she, "flight is now out of my power!— 
ULlah guide and bless ye, my dear sisters !" 

The two eldest princesses were shocked at the thoughts of 

aving her behind, and would fain have lingered, but the 
>atrol was advancing; the renegado was furious, and they 
7ere hui-ried away to the subterraneous passage. They groped 
heir way through a fearfid labyrinth cut througli the heart of 
he mountain, and succeeded in reaching, undiscovered, an 
ron gate that opened outside of the walls. The Spanish cav^ 
liers were waiting to receive them, disguised as Moorish sol- 
iers of the guard comman5.ed by the renegado. 

The lover of Zorahayda was frantic when he learned that she 
ad refused to leave the tower ; but there was no time to waste 

I lamentations. The two princesses were placed behind their 
)vers ; the discreet Cadiga mounted behind the renegado, and 

II set off at a round pace in the direction of the pass of Lope, 
hich leads through the mountains towards Cordova. 

Tliey had not proceeded far when they heard the noise of 
rums and trumpets from the battlements of the Alhambra. 
Our flight is discovered," said the renegado. "We have fleet 



106 Til^ ALHAMBRA. 

steeds, the night is dark, and we may distance all pursuit,'* 
replied the cavaliers. 

They put spurs to their horses and scoured across the Vega. 
They attained to the foot of the mountam of Elvira, which 
stretches like a promontory into the plain. The renegade 
paused and listened. "As yet," said he, "there is no one on 
our traces, we shall make good our escape to the mountains," 
While he spoke a ball of fire sprang up in a light blaze on the 
top of the watch-tower of the Alhambra. 

" Confusion!" cried the renegade, "that fire will put all the 
guards of the passes on the alert. Away, away, spur like mad ; 
there is no time to be lost." 

Away they dashed— the clattering of their horses' hoofi; 
echoed from rock to rock as they swept along the road that 
skirts the rocky mountain of Elvira. As they galloped on, 
they beheld that the ball of fire of the Alhambra was answered 
in every direction ; light after light blazed on the atalayas or 
watch-towers of the mouatains. 

"Forward! forward!" cried the renegado, with many an 
oath — "to the bridge! — to the bridge! before the alarm has 
reached there." 

They doubled the promontory of the mountain, and arrived 
in sight of the famous Puente del Pinos, that crosses a rushing 
stream often dyed with Christian and Moslem blood. To their 
confusion the tower on the bridge blazed with lights and glit- 
tered with armed men. The renegado pulled up his steed, rose 
in his stirrups and loolied about him for a moment, then beck- 
oning to the cavahers he struck off from the road, skirted the 
river for some distance, and dashed into its waters. The cav- 
ahers called upon the princesses to cling to them, and did the 
same. They were borne for some distance down the rapidj 
current, the surges roared round them, but the beautiful prin- 
cesses clung to their Christian knights and never uttered a 
complaint. The cavaliers attained the opposite bank in safety, 
and were conducted by the renegado, by rude and imfre- 
quented paths, and wild barrancos through the heart of the 
mountains, so as to avoid all the regular passes. In a word,i|| 
they succeeded in reaching the ancient city of Cordova ; whec 
their restoration to their country and friends was celebrated j 
with great rejoicings, for they were of the noblest families 
The beautiful princesses were forthwith received into th€f||g,j 
bosom of the church, and after being in aU due form madem^ 
regular Christians, were rendered happy lovers. |k 

Hfii mm 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 107 

In our hurry to make good the escape of the princesses 
acr-oss the river and up the mountains, we forgot to mention 
Llu' fate of the discreet Cadiga. She had chmg hke a cat to 
Hussem Baba, in the scamper across the Vega, screaming at 
3very bound and drawing many an oath from the whiskered 
-enegado; but when he prepared to phmge his steed into the 
•iver her terror knew no bounds. 

"Grasp me not so tightly, " cried Hussein Baba; "hold on by 
ny belt, and fear nothing." 

, She held firmly with both hands by the leathern belt that 
iPrded the broad-backed renegade; but when he halted with 
he cavaliers to take breath on the mountain summit, the 
luenna was no longer to be seen. 

1 "What has become of Cadiga?" cried the princesses in 
llarm. 

! "I know not," replied the renegade. "My belt came loose 
ti the midst of the river, and Cadiga was swept with it down 
be stream. The will of Allah be done!-but it was an em- 
roidered belt and of great price!" 

There was no time to waste in idle reports, yet bitterly did 
le princesses bewail the loss of their faithful and discreet 
mnsellor. That excellent old woman, however, did not lose 
LOre than half of her nine lives in the stream.— A fisherman 
ho was drawing his nets some distance down the stream, 
•ought her to land and was not a little asfconislied at his 
iraculous draught. "What farther became of the discreet 
adiga, the legend does not mention.— Certain it is, that she 
inced her discretion in never venturing within the reach of 
ohamed the left-handed. 

Almost as little is known of the conduct of that sagacious 
onarch, when he discovered the escape of his daughters and 
e deceit practised upon him by the most faithful of servants. 
was Mie only instance in which he had caUed in the aid of 
unsel, and he was never afterwards known to be guilty of a 
nilar weakness. He took good care, however, to guard his 
tnaining daughter; who had no disposition to elope. It is 
ought, indeed, that she secretly repented having remained 
hind. Now and then she was seen leaning on the battle- 
3nts of the tower and looking mournfully towards the moun- 
ins, in the direction of Cordova; and sometimes the notes of 
r lute were heard accompanying ii.laintive ditties, in which 
3 was said to lament the loss of her sisters and her lover, and 
bewail her sohtary hfe. She died young, and, according tc 



108 THE ALEAMBRA. 

popular rumour, was buried in a vault beneath the tower, an<5 
her untimely fate has given rise to more than one traditionarv 
fable. 



LOCAL TRADITIONS. 

The common people of Spain have an oriental passion toi\ 
story -tellmg and are fond of the marvellous. They will gathei; 
round the doors of their cottages on summer evenings, or ixi 
the great cavernous chimney corners of their ventas in the 
winter, and listen witn insatiable delight to miraculous legendjl 
of saints, perilous adventures of travellers, and daring exploitft 
of robbers and contrabandistas. The wild and sohtary naturr 
of a great part of Spain; the imperfect state of knowledges 
the scantiness of general topics of conversation, and the roc 
mantic, adventurous life that every one leads in a land wherii 
travelling is yet in its primitive state, all contribute to cherisl^ 
this love of oral narration, and to produce a strong expressioiij 
of the extravagant and wonderful. There is no theme, how 
ever, more prevalent or popular than that of treasures buriej 
by the Moors. It pervades the whole country. In traversinl 
the wild Sierras, the scenes of ancient prey and exploit, yoji 
cannot see a Moorish atalaya or watch-tower perched amon^ 
the cliffs, or beetling above its rock-built village, but you 
muleteer, on being closely questioned, will suspend the smok i 
ing of his cigariUo to tell some tale of Moslem gold buried be I 
neath its foundations; nor is there a ruined alcazar in a city/ 
but has its golden tradition, handed down, from generation t i 
generation, among the poor people of the neighbourhood. ' 

These, like most popular fictions, have had some grounc 
work in fact. During the wars between Moor and Christiar j 
which distracted the country for centuries, towns and castle ! 
were liable frequently and suddenly to change owners ; and th i 
inhabitants, during sieges and assaults, were fain to bury thei 1 
money and jewels in the earth, or hide them in vaults and wellf ' 
as is often done at the present day in the despotic and belli ge' | 
ent countries of the East. At the time of the expulsion of tfc l 
Moors, also, many of them concealed then; /nost precioi i 
effects, hoping that their exile would be but temporary, an ] 
that they would be enabled to return and retrieve their trea, ' 
ures at some future day. It is certain that, from time t;i. 
time, hoards of gold and silver coin have been accidental! || 
digged up, after a lapse of centuries, from among the ruit 4 



LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEGACY. 109 

of Moorish fortresses and habitations, and it requires but a 
fow facts of the kind to give birth to a thouaand fictions. 

The stories thus originating have generally something of an 
oriental tinge, and are marked with that mixture of the Arabic 
and Gothic which seems to me to characterize everything in 
Spain ; and especially in its southern provinces. The hidden 
wealth is always laid under magic spell, and secured by charm 
land talisman. Sometimes it is g-uarded by uncouth monsters, 
br fiery dragons ; sometimes by enchanted Moors, who sit by it 
in armour, with drawn swords, but motionless as statues, 
Gaaintaining a sleepless watch for ages. 

j The Alhambra, of course, from the peculiar circumstances of 
jts history, is a strong hold for popular fictions of the kind, 
md curious reliques, dug up from time to time, have contrib- 
ited to strengthen them. At one time, an earthen vessel was 
bund, containing Moorish coins and the skeleton of a cock, 
vhich, according to the opinion of shrewd inspectors, must 
lave been buried alive. At another time, a vessel was digged 
p, containing a great scarabaeus, or beetle, of baked clay, cov- 
sred with Arabic inscriptions, which was pronounced a pro- 
igious amulet of occidt virtues. In this way the wits of tlie 
agged brood who inhabit the Alhambra have been set wool 
athering, until there is not a hall, or tower, or vault, of t)ie 
Id fortress that has not been made the scene of some marv^l- 
)us tradition. 

I have already given brief notices of some related to me by 
lie authentic Mateo Ximenes, and now subjoin one wrought 
kit from various particulars gathered among the gossips of the 
artress. 

i 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY. 

Just within the fortress of the Alhambra, in front of the 

)yal palace, is a broad open esplanade, called the place or 

uare of the cisterns, (la. plaza de los algibes,) so called from 

g undermined by reservoirs of water, hidden from sight, 

d which have existed from the time of the Moors. At one 

mer of this esplanade is a Moorish well, cut through the liv- 

^BS rock to a gi-eat depth, the water of which is cold as ice and 

^ibar as crystal. The wells made by the Moors are always in 



110 TEE ALHAMBBA. 1 

repute, for it is well known what pains they took to penetrate 
to the purest and sweetest springs and fountains. The one we 
are speaking of is famous throughout Granada, insomuch that 
the water-carriers, some bearing great water-jars on theipi 
shoulders, others driving asses before them, laden with earthei^:: 
vessels, are ascending and descending the steep woody avenucsj-s 
of the Alhambra from early dawn until a late hour of the night.i 

Fountains and wells, ever since the scriptural days, have* 
been noted gossiping places in hot climates, and at the well iui 
question there is a kind of perpetual club kept up during thei 
live-long day, by the invalids, old women, and other curious,^ 
do-nothing folk of the fortress, who sit here on the stonei 
benches under an awning spread over the well to shelter th0.i 
toll-gatherer from the sun, and dawdle over the gossip of then 
fortress, and question any water-carrier that arrives about then 
news of the city, and make long comments on everything thejj 
hear and see. Not an hour of the day but loitering housewiveii 
and idle maid-servants may be seen, Jngering with pitcher on 
head or in hand, to hear the last of the endless tattle of these 
ts^orthies. 

Among the water-carriers who once resorted to this well 
there was a sturdy, strong-backed, bandy-legged little fellow,i 
named Pedro Gil, but called Peregil for shortness. Being s 
water-carrier, he was a Gallego, or native of Gallicia, oj' 
course. Nature seems to have formed races of men as she has 
of animals for different kinds of drudgery. In France the shoe , 
blacks are all Savoyards, the porters of hotels all Swiss, and iiij 
the days of hoops and hair powder in England, no man coulcl 
give the regular swing to a sedan chair, but a bog-trottin^i 
Irishman. So in Spain the carriers of water and bearers o.(; 
burdens are all sturdy httle natives of Gaihcia. No man says J 
" get me a porter," but, " call a Gallego." I 

To return from this digression. Peregil the GaUego hacri^ 
begun business with merely a great earthen jar, which he can. 
ried upon his shoLilder ; by degrees he rose in the world, anci 
was enabled to purchase an assistant of a correspondent clas; ! 
of animals, being a stout shaggy -haired donkey. On each sid ' 
of this his long-eared a.id-de-camp, in a kind of panmer, wer ; I 
slung his water- jars covered with fig leaves to protect them fror » %^ 
the sun. There was not a more industrious water-carrier in Oi !|ij 
Granada, nor one more merry withal. The streets rang with hi; iifp] 
cheerful voice as he trudged after his donkey, singing forth tb '^ 
usual summer note that resounds through the Spanish towns |W 



hWi lift- 



LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEO ACT. m 

*'quien qidere agua—agiia maofria que la nieve.— Who wants 
water— water colder than snov/— who wants water from' tlio 
well of the Alhambra-cold as ice and clear as crystal?" When 
he served a customer with a sparkling glass, it was always 
with a pleasant word that caused a smile, and if, perchance it 
was a comely dame, or dunpling damsel, it was always with a 
sly leer and a complime):.t to her beauty that was irresistible 
Thus Peregil the GaUej-o was noted throughout all Granada for 
bemg one of the civjiest, pleasantest, and happiest of mortals 
Yet It IS not he who sings loudest and jokes most that has the 
lightest heart. Under all this air of merriment, honest Peregil 
liad his cares am« troubles. lie had a large family of ragged 
Bhildren to suv.port, who were hungry and clamorous as a 
best of yonn^^ swallows, and beset him with their outcries for 
tood whenever he came home of an evening. He had a help- 
nate too who was anything but a help to him. She liad been 

1 village beauty before marriage, noted for her skill m dancing 
;he bolero and ratthng the castanets, and she still retained her 
)arly propensities, spending the hard earnings of honest Pere- 
fil in frippery, and laying the very donkey imder requisition 
or jupkettmg parties into the country on Sundays, and saints' 
lays, and those innumerable holydays which are rather more 
lumerous m Spam than the days of the week. With all this 
he was a little of a slattern, something more of a lie-a-bed 
nd, above all, a gossip of the first water; neglecting house! 
lousohold and everything else, to loiter slip-shod in the houses 
I her gossip neighbours. 

He, however, who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb 
ccommodates the yoke of matrimony to the submissive neck' 
reregil bore all the heavy dispensations of wife and cluldren 
nth as meek a spirit as his donkey bore the water-jars- and 
^owever he might shake his ears in private, never ventured to 
uestion the household virtues of his slattern spouse 
He loved his children too, even as an owl loves its owlets 
)eingin them his own image multiplied and perpetuated for 
ley were a sturdy, long-backed, bandy-legged little brood, 
he great pleasure of honest Peregil was, whenever he could 
lord himself a scanty holyday and had a handful of inarave- 
les to spare, to take the whole litter forth with liiin, souk^ in 
LS arms, some tugging at his skirts, and some trudging at his 
3618, and to treat them to a gambol among the orchards (^f the 
ega, wlule his wife was dancing with her holyday friends ia 

»« Angosturas of the Darro. 



112 THE ALHAMBRA. 1 

It was a late hour one summer night, and most of the water*- 
carriers had desisted from their toils. The day had been un* 
commonly sultry ; the night was one of those delicious moon- 
lights, which tempt the inhabitants of those southern climes to 
indemnify themselves for the heat and inaction of the day, by 
lingering in the open air and enjoying its tempered sweetness 
until after midnight. Customers for water were thereforeti 
still abroad. Peregil, Uke a considerate, painstaking littlet] 
father, thought of his hungry children. "One more journeyj 
to the well," said he to himself, "to earn a good Sunday's f 
puchero for the little ones." So saying, he trudged rapidly up^ 
the steep avenue of the Alhambra, singing as he went, and; 
now and then bestowing a hearty thwack with a cudgel our 
the flanks of his donkey, either by way of cadence to the song,; 
or refreshment to the animal ; for dry blows serve in heu foin 
provender in Spain, for all beasts of burden. 

When arrived at the well, he found it deserted by every on€i 
except a soUtary stranger in Moorish garb, seated on the ston^ 
bench in the moonhght. Peregil paused at first, and regarded 
him with surprise, not unmixed with awe, but the Moor feebli 
beckoned him to approach. 1 , 

"I am faint and ill," said he; "aid me to return to the citytv 
and I will pay thee double 'what thou couldsfc gain by thy jarfl^ 
of water." 

The honest heart of the little water-carrier was touched witl 
compassion at the appeal of the stranger. "God forbid," saic 
he, " that I should ask fee or reward for doing a common ac 
of humanity." 

He accordingly helped the Moor on his donkey, and set of 
slowly for G-ranada, the poor Moslem being so weak that 1 
was necessary to hold him on the ardmal to keep him fron 
falling to the earth. 

When they entered the city, the water-carrier demanded 
whither he should conduct him. "Alas!" said the Moor 
faintly, " I have neither home nor habitation. I am a strange • 
in the land. Suffer me to lay my head this night beneath th;, 
roof, and thou shall be amply repaid. " 

Honest Peregil thus saw himself unexpectedly saddled wit' 
an infidel guest, but he was too humane to refuse a night'] 
shelter to a fellow being in so forlorn a plight ; so he conduct© 
the Moor to his dwelling. The cliildren, who had saUied forti 
open-mouthed as usual, on hearing the tramp of the donkey: , 
ran back with affright, when they beheld the turban© 



LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEGACY. ]13 

fcranger, and hid themselves behind their mother. The latter 
tapped forth intrepidly, Hkc a ruffling hen before her brood 
'hen a v.-igrmit dog approaches. ' 

''What infidel companion," cried she, "is this you have 
rought home at this late hour, to draw upon us the eyes of 
16 Inquisition?" 

"Be quiet, wife," replied the Galle^o, "here is a poor sick 
ranger, without friend or home: wouldst thou turn him forth 
' perish in the streets?" 

The wife would stiU have remonstrated, for, though she 
^ed m a hovel, she was a furious stickler for the credit of her 
mse; the httle water-carrier, however, for once was stiff- 
K5ked, and refused to bend beneath the yoke. He assisted 
e poor Moslem to alight, and spread a mat and a sheepskin 
^ him, on tne ground, in the coolest part of the house; being 
e only kind of bed that his poverty afforded. 
In a httle while the Moor was seized with violent conviil- 
>ns, wliich defied all the ministering skill of the simple 
iter-carrier. The eye of the poor patient acknowledged his 
Ridness. During an interval of his fits he called him to his 
Ele, and addressing him in o. low voice; "My end," said he, 

Efear is at hand. If I die I bequeath you this box as a re- 
rd for your charity." So saying, he opened his albomoz, or 
stalv, and showed a small box of sandal wood, strapi:)ed round 
K body. 

'God grant, my friend," replied the worthy little Gallego, 
that you may live many years to enjoy your treasure, what' 
i'3r it may be." 

tlie Moor shook his head; belaid his hand upon the box, 
n would have said something more concerning it, but his 
fivulsions returned with increased violence, and in a little 
Ule he expired. 

fhe water-carrier's wife was now as one distracted. " This 
jaes," said she, "of your foohsli good nature, always run- 
g into scrapes to oblige others. What will become of us 
en this corpse is found in our house? We shall be sent to 
3on as murderers; and if we escape with our lives, sliall be 
aed by notaries and alguazils. " 

'cor Peregil was in equal tribulation, and almost repented 
iself of having done a good deed. At length a thought 
ick him. " It is not yet day," said he. "I can convey the 
d body out of the city and bury it in the sands on the banks 
he Xenil. No one saw the Moor enter our dweUing, and no 



^-i^ TUB ALIIAMBRA. 

one wiU know any thing of his death." So said so done, ^le 
wife aided him. they rolled the body of the unfortunate Mos- 
^m in the mat on which he had expired, laid it across the ass, 
and Mattias sec out with it for the banks of the river 

As m luck would have it, there lived opposite to the water- 
carrier a barber, named PedrHlo Pedrugo, one of the m.os1 
prving, tattling, mischief-making, of his gossip tribe. _ He wa^ 
I weasel-faced, spider-legged varlet, supple and insinuating 
the famous Barber of SeviUe could not surpass him for his urn 
vers^ knowledge of the affairs of others, and he had no moi.^ 
power of retent?on than a sieve. It was said that he slept wit ; 
but one eye at a time, and kept one ear uncovered, so that 
even in his sleep, he might see and hear all that was going on: 
Certain it is, he was a sort of scandalous chronicle for th 
quidnuncs of Granada, and had more customers than all th 
test of liis fraternity. 

This meddlesome barber heard Peregil arrive at an unusus 
hour of night, and the exclamations of his wife and chiidrer| 
His head was instantly popped out of a little window whic, 
served him as a lookout, and he saw his neighbour assist a ma 
in a Moorish garb into his dwelhng. This was so strange a 
occurrence that Pedrillo Pedrugo slept not a wmk that night- 
every five minutes he was at his loop-hole, watching the light 
that gleamed through the chinks of his neighbour's door, an, 
before daylight he beheld Peregil sally forth with his donke 

unusually laden. , t j i. 

The inquisitive barber was in a fidget; he slipped on h 
clothes, and, stealing forth silently, followed the water-carr« 
at a distance, until he saw him dig a hole in the sandy bai 
of the Xenil, and bury something that had the appearance" 

a dead body. ^ ^ • t. 

The barber hied him home and fidgeted about his shop, se 
ting everything upside down, imtil sunrise. He then took 
basm under his arm, and saUied forth to the house of his daij 
customer, the Alcalde. - i t -^ 

The Alcalde was just risen. Pedrillo Pedrugo seated him 
a chair, threw a napkin round his neck, put a basin _o± b 
water under his chin, and began to moUiiy his beard with I 

^'"^Strange doings," said Pedrugo, who played ^^rber a: 
newsmonger at the same time. ''Strange domgsl Robber 
and murder, and burial, all in one night !" 

'' Hey? how ! What is it you say?" cried tlie Alcalde. 



LEGEND OF TUE MOOR'S LEO ACT. ]J5 

nil "'T" '■"^u'^Vi" ^^^""^ "■''''*"*? '-^ Pieco Of soap over the 
nose and mouth of the dignitary, for a Spanish barber disda ns 
to employ a brush; "I say that PeregU the Gallego has robbed 
Te J?" ff*^ ^ ^T'"'^ Mussulman, and buried bin" «,t 
Sthe ^me!"~'" ''" '" »ocfe, -accursed be the nigh? 

" But how do you know all this?" demanded the Alcalde 
be patient, Sefior, and you shaU hear all about it," rejjied 

edrillo, takmg bim by the nose and sliding a razor over Ids 
hoek. He then recounted all that he had seen, going through 
■oth operations at the same time, shaving his btardt wasW 
IS clun and wipmg him dry with a di?ty napkin while h! 
'as robbing, murdering, and burying the Moslem 
^Now it so happened that this Alcalde was one of the most 
verbearing, and at the same time most griping and corrupt 

Z^tr^f ?^'"°"'"- " ^°""^ not be'defied, howev? 

^ he set a high value upon justice, for he sold it at its weight 

gold He presumed the case in point to be one of murder 

d robbery; doubtless there must be rich spoil; how was t to 

5 secured mto the legitimate hands of the kw? for as to 

erely entrapping the delinquent-that would be feeding the 

P Zfl f t-aPPing the booty-that would be enriching 

i iustf; f ?v. ', ^<^'=0'?i°g t° his creed, wa.s the great end 

justice So thinking, he summoned to his presence his 

oad b^o.T 1 ''^ ^T "■^''''•' ^" *''<' ^'''=''="* Spanish garb-a 

nU bhct ^'T''i *'";"°'* "P ^* **"^ ^i'i^^- ^ quaint ruff, a 
.all blaclc cloak dangling from his shoulders; rusty black 
der-clothes that set off his spare wiry form; while in to 

^ce 'sth f '^T'^;" "';"'' "''"^''' *'^<' "«'l ^-iS'--^ "f h 

'ed tha he ™ t ''^^ 1'^'""''*'°""'* °f t^« '-'"««"* Spanish 
M, that he put upon the traces of the unlucky water-car- 
r; and such was his speed and certainty that he was upon 
-^m^^'^'lf poor Pcregil before ho had returned to ht 
-ser S justice" ^'"^ ""'"^ '''' ^"''^"^ ''^^"'''^ ^^^ '''^' 

ark'^!?''^','"^?*-"'"'" him one of his most terrific frowns. 
Qehtlk-r^l ' 'Tf '^•''"^^'oice that made the knees 
i^d of ,W ^^ T^ together,-" Hark, ye culprit ! there is 
ow« ,=V, ■' ^^ ^^^ ^"'''^ everything is known to me. A 
ows IS the proper reward for the crime thou hast commit- 
but I am mercuul, and readily listen to reason. The man 
f has been murdered in thy house was a Moor, an infidel 



116 THE ALIIAMBBA. 

the enemy of our faith, 
zeal that thou hast slain him. I will be indulgent, therefore 
render up the property of which thou hast robbed him, and W( 
will hush the matter up." 

The poor water-carrier called upon all the saints to witnes 
his innocence; alas! not one of them appeared, and if ther 
had, the Alcalde woidd have disbelieved the whole kalendari 
The water carrier related the whole story of the dying Mooj 
with the straightforward sunphcity of truth, but it was all ii 
vain: "Wilt thou persist in saying," demanded the judge 
" that this Moslem had neither gold nor jewels, which were thi 
object of thy cupidity?" 

"As I hope to be saved, your worship, " replied the watei 
carrier, "he had nothing but a small box of sandalwood, whid 
he bequeathed to me in reward of my services." 

"A box of sandalwood! a box of sandal wood!" exclaime 
the Alcalde, his eyes sparkling at the idea of precious jewels 
"and where is this box? where have you concealed it?" 

"An' it please your grace," replied the water-carrier, "it i 
in one of the panniers of my mule, and heartily at the servic 
of your worship." 

He had hardly spoken the words when the keen alguaz 
darted off and reappeared in an instant with the mysterioi] 
box of sandal wood. The Alcalde opened it with an eager an 
trembling hand ; all pressed forward to gaze upon the treasure 
it was expected to contain; when, to then* disappointmen 
nothing appeared within but a parchment scroll, covered wit 
Arabic characters, and an end of a waxen taper ! 

When there is nothing to be gained by the conviction of : 
prisoner, justice, even in SppJn, is apt to be impartial. Tl 
Alcalde, having recovered from his disappointment and foumi 
there was really no booty in the case, now listened dispassior^^ 
ately to the explanation of the water-carrier, which was co 
roborated by the testimony of his wife. Being convince 
therefore, of his innocence, he discharged him from arrest ; ns. 
more, he permitted him to carry off the Moor's legacy, the be 
of sandal wood and its contents, as the well-merited reward 
his humanity ; but he retained his donkey in payment of co'| 
and charges. 

Behold the unfortunate little Gallego reduced once more 
the necessity of being his own water-carrier, and trudging i 
to the well of the Alhambra with a great earthen jar upon h 
shoulder. As he toiled \m the hill in the heat of a summer no( 



LEGEND OF TUE MOORS LEO ACT. II7 

his usual good-humour forsook him. "Dog of an Alcalde!" 
Avould lie cry, "to rob a poor man of the means of his subsist- 
ence— of the best friend he had in the world!" And then, at 
the remembrance of the beloved companion of his labours,' all 
the kindness of his nature would break forth. "Ah, donkey 
>f my heart !" wculd he exclaim, resting his burden on a stone, 
11 d wiping the sweat from his brow, "Ah, donkey of my heart 1 
\ warrant me thou thinkest of thy old master! I warrant me 
i.iou missest the water jars— poor beast !" 

To add to his afflictions his wife received him, on his return 
«iome, with whimperings and repinings; she had clearly the 
:'antagc-ground of him, having warned him not to commit the 
Ssgregious act of hospitality that had brought on him all these 
ii^isfortunes, and like a knowing woman, she took every occa- 
ion to throw her superior sagacity in his teeth. If ever her 
Children lacked food, or needed a-new garment, she would an- 
swer with a sneer, "Go to your father; he's heir to king Chico 
f the Alhambra. Ask him to help you out of the Moor s strong 
lox." 
Was ever poor mortal more soundly punished, for having 
one a good action ! The unlucky Peregfl was grieved in flesh 
'id spirit, but still he bore meekly with the raihngs of his 
•ouse. At length one evening, when, after a hot day's toil, 
le taunted him in the usual manner, he lost all patience. He 
^d not venture_ to retort upon her, but his eye rested upon 
M box of sandal wood, which lay on a shelf with hd halt 
)en, as if laughing in mockery of his vexation. Seizing it up 
5 dashed it with indignation on the floor. "Unlucky was 
e day that I ever set eyes on thee," he cried, "or sheltered 
y master beneath my roof." 

As the box struck the floor the lid flew wide open, and the 
■rchment scroll roUed forth. Peregil sat regarding the scroU 
r some time in moody silence. At length rallying his ideas 
W)io knows," thought he, "but this writing raav be of some 
iportance, as the Moor seems to have guarded "^it with such 
re." Pickmg it up, therefore, he put it in his bosom, and 
9 next morning, as he was crying w^ator through the streets, 
stopped at the shop of a Moor, a native of Tan.giers, who 
d trinkets and perfumery in the Zacatin, and asked him to 
3lain the contents. 

rhe Moor read the scroll attentively, then stroked his beard 
i smiled. "This manuscript," said he, " is a foi*m of incan- 
ion for the recovery of hidden treasure, that is under the 

I 



118 ^^^-^ ALIIAMBBA. 

power of enchantment. It is said to have such virtue that th 
strongest bolts and bars, nay the adamantine rock itself wl 
yield before it." 

''Bah!" cried the little Gaiiego, "what is all that to me? 
am no enchanter, and know nothing of buried treasure." S 
saying he shouldered his watc-x-jar, left the scroll in the hand 
of the Moor, and trudged for\vard on his daily rounds. 

That evening, however, as he rested himself about twiligb 
at the well of the Alhambra, he found a number of gossips at 
sembled at the place, and their conversation, as is not unuBU£ 
at that shadowy hour, turned upon old tales and traditions c 
a supernatural nature. Being all poor as rats, they dwelt wit 
peculiar fondness upon the popular theme of enchanted riche 
left by the Moors m various parts of the Alhambra. Abov 
all, they concurred in the belief that there were great treasure 
buried deep in the earth under the tower of the Seven Floors. 

These stories made an unusual impression on the mind c 
honest Peregil, and they sank deeper and deeper into hi 
thoughts as he returned alone down the darkling avenue!; 
" If, after all, there should be treasure hid beneath that towe 
— and if the scroU I left with the JMoor should enable me to ge 
at it !" In the sudden ecstasy of the thought he had well nig! 
let fall his water-jar. 

That night he tumbled and tossed, and could scarcely get 
wink of sleep for the thoughts that were bewildering his brair 
In the morning, bright and early, he repaired to the shop c 
the Moor, and told him all that was passing in his mind 
"You can read Arabic," said he, "suppose we go together t 
the tower and try the eif ect of the chfirm ; if it fails we are ni 
worse off than before, but if it succeeds we will share equallij 
ail the treasure we may discover." 

"Hold," rephed the Moslem, "this writing is not sufficier 
of itseK ; it must be read at midnight, by the light of a tape 
singularly compounded and prepared, the ingredients of whic i 
are not witliin my reach. Without such taper the scroll is g ) 
no avail." 

"Say no more!" cried the little Gallego. "I have such 
taper at hand and will bring it here in a moment. " So sayin 
he hastened home, and soon returned with the end of a yello" 
wax taper that he had found in the box of sandal wood. 

The Moor felt it, and smelt to it. ' ' Here are rare and costl; 
perfumes," said he, " combined with this yellow wax. This:- 
the kind of taper specified in the scroll. While this burnSj th 



LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEGACY. 119 

strongest walls and most secret caverns will remain open ; woo 
to him, however, who lingers within until it be extinguished. 
He will remain enchanted with the treasure." 
I It was now agreed between them to try the charm that very 
'night. At a late hour, therefore, when nothing was stirring 
I but bats and owls, they ascended the woody hill of the Alliam- 
bra, and approached that awful tower, shrouded by trees and 
i rendered formidable by so many traditionary tales. 

By the light of a lantern, they groped their way through 
bushes, and over fallen stones, to the door of a vault beneath 
the tower. With fear and trembling they descended a flight 
of steps cut into the rock. It led to an empty chamber, damp 
and drear, from which another flight of steps led to a deeper 
vault. In this way they descended four several flights, lead- 
ing into as many vaults, one below the other, but the floor of 
the fourth was solid, and though, according to tradition, there 
[remained three vaults still below, it was said to be impossible 
to penetrate farther, the residue being shut up by strong en- 
chantment. The air of this vault was damp and chilly, and 
fciad an earthy smell, and the light scarce cast forth any rays. 
rhey paused here for a time in breathless suspense, until they 
faintly heard the clock of the watch tower strike midnight; 
ipon tliis they Lit the waxen taper, wliich diffused an odour 
>f myrrh, and frankincense, and storax. 

The Moor began to read in a hurried voice. He had scarce 
finished, when there was a noise as of subterraneous thunder, 
pie earth shook, and the floor yawning open disclosed a flight 
Df steps. Trembling with awe they descended, and by the 
fight of the lantern found themselves in another vault, covered 
jvith Arabic inscriptions. In the centre stood a great chest, 
iccured with seven bands of steel, at each end of which sat an 
nchanted Moor in armour, but motionless as a statue, being 
iontrolled by tlie power of the incantation. Before the chest 
vere several jars filled with gold and silver and precious 
tones. In the largest of these they thrust their anns up to 
|he elbow, and at every dip hauled forth hands-full of broad 
''ellow pieces of Moorish gold, or bracelets and ornaments of 
he same precious metal, while occasionally a necklace of 
(riental pearl would stick to their fingers. Still they trembled 
nd breathed short while cramming their pockets with the 
poils ; and cast many a fearful glance at the two enchanted 
loors, who sat grim and motionless, glaring upon them with 
inwinking eyes. At length, struck with a sudden panic at 



120 TEE ALHAMBRA, 

some fancied noise, they both rushed up the staircase, tumbled 
over one another into the upper apartment, overturned and 
extinguished the waxen taper, and the pavement again closed 
with a thundering sound. 

Filled with dismay, they clid not pause until they had 
groped theii' way out of the tower, and beheld the stars shin- 
ing tlirough the trees. Then seating themselves upon the, 
(>:rass, they divided the spoil, determining to content themV 
selves for the present ^vith this mere skimming of the jars,; 
but to return on some future night and drain them to the botn 
tom. To make sm-e of each other's good faith, also, thejy 
divided the taMsmans between them, one retaining the scroll 
and the other the taper; this done, they set off with lighli 
hearts and well lined pockets for Granada. 

As they wended their way down the hill, the shrewd Moon 
whispered a word of counsel in the ear of the simple little 
water-carrier. 

"Friend Peregil," said he, "all this affair must be kept a 
profound secret until we have secured the treasure and con- 
veyed it out of harm's way. If a whisper of it gets to the eait 
of the Alcalde v/e are undone !" 

"Certainly!" replied the Gallego; "nothuig can be more 
true." 

"Friend Peregil," said the Moor, "you are a discreet man,i 
and I make no doubt can keep a secret; but — you have a 
wife — " 

"She shall not know a word of it!" replied the little water-r 
caiTier stiu-dily. 

"Enough," said the Moor, "I depend upon thy cliscretioi)^ 
and thy promise." 

Never was promise more positive and sincere; but alash 
what man can keep a secret from his wife? Certainly not) 
Fuch a one as Peregil tJie water-carrier, who was one of the 
nost loving and tractable of husbands. On his return homei 
He found Ms wife moping in a corner. 

" Mighty well !" cried she, as he entered; "you've come afi 
last; after rambling about until this hour of the night. 1 
wonder you have not brought home another Moor as a house-; 
mate." Then bursting into tears she began to wring hei 
hands and smite her breast. "Unhappy woman that I am!** 
exclaimed she, "v/hat will become of me! My house stripped jf, 
and plundered by lawyers and alguazils; my husband a do-no* i^, 
good that no longer brings home bread for his family, buiJn 



Lli'GKIsD OF THE MOORS LEGACY. 121 

goes rambling about, day and nip:ht, with infidel Moors. Oh, 
my children! my children! what will become of us; we shall 
all have to beg in the streets !" 

Honest Percgil was so moved by the distress of his spouse, 
that he could not help whimpering also. His heart was as full 
as his pocket, and not to be restrained. Thrustuig his hand 
into the latter he hauled forth three or four broad gold pieces 
md slipped them into her bosom. The poor woman stared 
iWth astonishment, and could not understand the meanmg of 
ihis golden shower. Before she could recover her surprise 
;he little GaUego drew forth a chain of gold and dangled it 
)efore her, capering with exultation, his mouth distended 
rom ear to ear. 

"Holy Virgin protect us!" exclaimed the wife. "What 
last thou been doing, Peregil? Surely thou hast not been 
ommitting murder and robbery 1" 

I The idea scarce entered the brain of the poor woman than it 
ecame a certainty ^\dth her. She saw a prison and a gaUows 
a the distance, and a little bandy-legged GaUego dangling 
endant from it; and, overcome by the horrors conjm^ed up 
|y her imagination, fell into violent hysterics. 
What could the poor man do? He had no other means of 
acifying his wife and dispelling the phantoms of her fancy, 
lan by relating the v%^hole story of his good fortune. Tliis' 
owever, he did not do until he had exacted from her the 
iost solenm promise to keep it a profound secret from every 
ving being. 

To describe her joy would be impossible. She flung her 
TOS round the neck of her husband, and almost strangled 
im Math her caresses. "Now, wife!" exclaimed the little 
lan with honest exultation, "what say you now to the Moor's 
gacy? Henceforth never abuse me for helping a fellow crea- 
ire in distress. " 

The honest Gallego retired to his sheepsldn mat, and slept as 
*undly as if on a bed of down. Not so his wife.— She emptied 
e whole contents of liis pockets upon the mat, and sat all 
ght counting gold pieces of Arabic coin, trying on necklaces 
id ear-rin.c:s, and fancying the figure she should one day 
ake when permitted to enjoy her riches. 
On the following morning the honest Gallego took a broad 
Iden com, and repaired with it to a jeweller's shop in the 
<Jatin to offer it for sale; pretending to have found it among 
B rums of the Alhambra. The jeweller saw that it had aij 



122 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Arabic inscription and was of the purest gold; lie offered 
however, but a third of its value, with which the water-carrie: 
was perfectly content. Peregil now bought new clothes fo. 
his little flock, and all kinds of toys, together with ample pro 
visions for a liearty meal, and returning to his dwelling se 
all his children dancing around him, while he capered in thi' 
midst, the happiest of fathers. 

The wife of the wa.ter-carrier kept her promise of secrec;; 
with surprising strictness. For a whole day and a half shi 
went about with a look of mystery and a heart swelling almoss 
to bursting, yet she held her peace, though surrounded by he^ 
gossips. It is true she could not help giving herself a few airi 
apologized for her i-agged dress, and talked of ordering a ne^. 
basquina all trimmed with gold lace and bugles, and a ne^ 
lace mantilla. She threw out hints of her husband's intentio 
of leaving off his trade of Avater- carrying, as it did not altc 
gether agree with his health. In fact she thought they shoul 
all retire to the country for the summer, that the childre 
might have the benefit of the mountain air, for there was n.. 
living in the city in this sultry season. 

The neighbours stared at each other, and thought the poc 
woman had lost her wits, and her airs and graces an 
elegant pretensions were the theme of universal scoffin \ 
and merriment among her friends, the moment her back wi 
turned. 

If she restrained herself abroad, however, she indemnifiec 
herself at home, and, putting a string of rich oriental peari 
round her neck, Moorish bracelets on her arms ; an aigrette 
dia.monds on her head, sailed backwards and forwards in hd 
slattern rags about the room, now and then stopping to p.dmiii 
herself in a piece of broken mirror. Nay, in the impulse 
her simple vanity, she could not resist on one occasion sho^i 
ing herself at the window, to enjoy the effect of her finery ( 
the passers by. 

As the fates would have it, Pedrillo Pedrugo, the meddJI 
some barber, was at this moment sitting idly in his shop ( 
the opposite side of the street, when his ever watchful e; 
caught the sparkle of a diamond. In an instant he was at I 
loop-hole, reconnoitring the slattern spouse of the water-c&; 
rier, decorated with the splendour of an eastern bride. T 
sooner had he taken an accurate inventory of her ornamen j \ 
than he posted off with all speed to the Alcalde. In a lit^ \\ 
while the hungry alguazil was again on the scent, and befo 

I 



LEGEND OF THE MOOIVS LEGACY. 12;^ 

tho day was over, the unfortunate Peregil was again dragged 
into tlio presence of the jadg(\ 

"How is this, villahi!" cried the AlcaWe in a furious voice. 
"YoLi told me that the infidel who died in your house left 
nothing hehind but an empty coft'c];, and now I hear of your 
wife flaunting in her rags decked out with pearls and dia- 
monds. Wretch, that thou art! prepare to render up the 
spoils of thy miserable x'ictim, and to swing on the gallows 
that is already tired of waiting for thee." 

The terrified water-carrier fell on his knees, and made a full 
relation of the marvellous manner in which he had gained his 
wealth. The Alcalde, the alguazil, and the inquisitive barber 
listened with greedy ears to this Arabian tale of enchanted 
treasure. The alguazil was despatched to bring the Moor who 
had assisted in the incantation. The Moslem entered half f right- 
lened -^ut of his wits at finding himself in the hands of the harj»ies 
lof the law. When he beheld the water-carrier standing with 
tsheepish look and downcast countenance, he comprehended 
fthe whole matter. "Miserable animal," said he, a,s he passed 
near him, "did I not warn thee against babbling to thy 
fwife?" 

i The story of the Moor coincided exactly with that of his col- 
league; but the Alcalde affected to be slow of belief, and threw 
Dut menaces of imprisonment and rigorous investigation. 

"Softly, good Seiior Alcalde, " said the Mussulman, who by 
this time had recovered his usual shrewdness and self -posses- 
sion. ' ' Let us not mar fortune's favours in the scramble for 
Ibhem. Nobody knows any thing of this matter but ourselves ; 
Jet us keep the secret. There is wealth enough in the cave to 
bnrich us all. Promise a fair division, and all shall be pro- 
liuced; refuse, and the cave shall remain for ever closed." 
! \ The Alcalde consulted apart with the alguazil. The latter was 
u\ old fox in his profession. "Promise any thing," said he, 
il 'until you get possession of the treasure. You may then seize 
! ipon the whole, and if he and liis accomplice dare to murnmr, 
i.hreaten them with the faggot and the stake as infidels and 
brcerers." 

I The Alcalde relished the advice. Smootliing his brow and 
(uming to the Moor, — "This is a strange story." said he, "and 
bay be true, but I must have ocular proof of it. This very 
light you must repeat the incantation in my presence. If 
here be really such treasure, we will share it amicably between 
IS, and sa y nothing further of the matter ; if ye have deceived 



124 THE ALHAMBRA. 

me, expect no mercy at my hands. In the mean time you 

must remain in custody." 

The Moor and the water-carrier cheerfully agreed to these 
conditions, satisfied that the event would prove the truth ot 
their words. 

Towards midnight the Alcalde sallied forth secretly, attended 
hy the alg^iazil and the meddlesome barber, all strongly armed„ 
Dhey conducted the Moor and the water-carrier as prisoners, 
md were provided v/ith the stout donkey ot the latter, to bear 
oif the expected treasure. They arrived at the tower without t; 
being observed, and tying the donkey to a fig-tree, descended! 
into the fourth vault of the tower. 

The scroll was produced, the yellow waxen taper lighted, , 
and the Moor read the form of incantation. The earth trembled ! 
as before, and the x^avement opened with a thundering sound, 
disclosing the narrow flight of steps. The Alcalde, the alguazil, 
and the barber were struck aghast, and could not summon 
courage to descend. The Moor and the water-carrier entered 
the lower vault and found the two Moors seated as before, silent 
and motionless. They removed two of the great jars filled with 
golden coin and jprecious stones. The water-carrier bore them 
up one by one upon his shoulders, but though a strong- 
backed little man, and accustomed to carry burdens, he 
staggered beneath their weight, and found, when slung on 
each side of his donkey, they were as much as the animal could 
bear. 

" Let us be content for the present," said the Moor; "here is; 
as much treasure as vv e can carry off without being perceived, 
and enough to make us all wealthy to our heart's desire." 

"Is there more treasure remaining behind?" demanded the 
Alcalde. 

"The gi^eatest prize of all," said the Moor; " a huge coffer, 
bound with bands of steel, and filled with pearls and precious 
stones." i;i 

"Let us have up the coffer by all means," cried the grasping,'' 
Alcalde. 

"I wiU descend for no more," said the Moor, doggedly. ■ 
" Enough is enouj^di for a reasonable man ; more is superfluous." 'i 

"And I," said the water-carrier, '^wiil bring up no further ' 
burthen to break the back of my poor donkey. " 

Finding commands, threats, and entrea,ties equally vain, the i 
Alcalde turned to his two adherents. "Aid me," said he, "to 'l 
bring up the coffer, and its contents shall be divided between \i 



LKGKNl) OF Tlll'J MOUIVS LFXiACT. 125 

US." So paying lie descended the steps, followed, with trem- 
bling reluctance, by the algnazil and the barber. 

No sooner did the Moor beliold them fairly earthed than lie 
extinguished the yellow taper: the pavement closed with its 
usual crash, and the three worthies remained buried in its 
womb. 

He then hastened up the different flights of steps, nor stopped 
ijjntil in the open air. The little water-carrier followed him as 
fast as his short legs would permit. 

"What hast thou done?" cried Peregil, as soon as he could 
[•ecover breath. "The Alcalde and the other two are shut m. 
n the vault I" ^ 

"It is the will of Allah!" said the Moor, devoutly. 

"And will you not release them?" demanded the Gallego. 

" Allah forbid !" replied the Moor, smoothing his beard. "It 
s written in the book of fate that they shall remain enchanted 
mtil some future adventurer shall come to break the charm. 
The will of God be done !" So saying he hurled the end of the 
^axen taper far among the gloomy thickets of the glen. 
I There was noAv no remedy ; so the Moor and the water-carrier 
proceeded with the richly-laden donkey towards the city : nor 
lould honest Peregil refrain from hugging and kissing his long- 
ared fellow-labourer, thus restored to him from the clutches of 
[he law; and, in fact, it is doubtful which gave the simple- 
karted Httle man most joy at the moment, the gaining of the 
ireasure or the recovery of the donkey. 

i The two partners in good luck divided their spoil amicably 
bd fairly, excepting that the Moor, who had a little taste for 
finketry, made out to get into his heap the most of the pearls 
bd precious stones, and other baubles, but then he always 
jave the water-carrier in lieu magnificent jewels of massy gold 
:our times the size, with which the latter was heartily content. 
|hey took care not to Hnger within reach of accidents, but 
•lade off to enjoy their wealth undisturbed in other countries 
jhe Moor returned into Africa, to his native city of Tetuan 
id the Gallego, with his wife, his children and his donkey, 
lade the best of his way to Portugal. Here, under the [a'd- 
lonition and tuition of his wife, he became a personage of some 
msequence, for she made the little man array his long body 
id short legs in doublet and hose, with a feather in his hat 
id a sword by his side; and, laying aside the familiar appoHa- 
on of Peregil, assume the more sonorous title of Don Pedro 
11. His progeny grew up a thriving and merrv-hearted. 



126 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

though short and bandy-legged generation ; while the Senora 
Gil, be-fringed, be-laced, and be-tasselled from her head to her 
heels, with glittering rings on every finger, became a model ol 
slattern fashion and finery. 

As to the Alcalde, and his adjuncts, they remained shut up 
under the great tower of the Seven Floors, and there they re- 
main spell-bound at the present day. Whenever there shall bei 
1 lack in Spain of pimping barbers, sharking alguazils, andu 
corrupt Alcaldes, they may be sought after ; but if they havet 
to wait until such time for their deliverance, there is danger oil 
their enchantment enduring until doomsday. 



VISITOES TO THE ALHAMBRA. 

It is now nearly three months since I took up my abode in 
the Alhambra, during which time the progress of the season 
has wrought many changes. When I first arrived every thing 
was in the freshness of May ; the foliage of the trees was still 
tender and transparent; the pomegranate had not yet shed its 
brilliant crimson blossoms ; the orchards of the Xenil and the 
Darro were in full bloom ; the rocks were hung with wild flow- 
ers, and Granada seemed completely surrounded by a wilder- 
ness Ol roses, among Avhich innumerable nightingales sang, not 
merely in the night, but all day long. 

The advance of summer has withered the rose and silenced 
the nightingale, and the distant country begins to look parched'! 
and sunburnt ; though a perennial verdure reigns immediately 
round the city, and in the deep narrow valleys at the foot ol 
the snow-capped mountains. 

The Alhambra possesses retreats graduated to the heat of the 
v-eather, among which the most pecuhar is the almost subter- 
anean apartment of the baths. This still retains its ancient 
oriental character, though stamped with the touching traces 
of decline. At the entrance, opening into a small court for-^ . 
merly adorned with flowers, is a hall, moderate in size, but 
light and graceful in architecture. It is overlooked by a smal- ' 
gallery supported by marble pillars and moresco arches. Arj I 
alabaster fountain in the centre of the pa^vement still throws up 4 
a jet of water to cool the place. On each side are deep alcoves 5 
with raised p.latforms, where the bathern. after \hev^ r;l']'itiorn ■' 



VISlTOllS TO THE ALIIAMDRA. 127 

reclined on luxurious cushions, soothed to voluptuous repose 
by the fragrance of the perfumed air and the notes of soft 
music from the gallery. Beyond this liall are the interior 
chambers, still more private and retired, Avhere no liglit is 
admitted but through small apertures in the vaulted ceil- 
ings. Here was the sanctum sanctoi*um of female pi-ivacy, 
where the beauties of the harem indulged in the luxury of 
j^he baths. A soft mysterious light reigns through the place, 
the broken baths are still there, and traces of ancient elegance. 
The prevailmg silence and obscurity have made this a fa- 
vourite resort of bats, who nestle during the day in the dark 
nooks and corners, and, on being disturbed, flit mystcriounly 
about the twilight chambers, heightening in an indescribable 
degree their air of desertion and decay. 

In this cool and elegant though dilapidated retreat, which 

has the freshness and seclusion of a grotto, I have of late passed 

jthe sultry hours of the day; emerging toward sunset, and 

thing, or rather swiimning, at night in the great reservoir 

f the main couvt. In this way I have been enabled in a mea- 

ure to counteract the relaxing and enervating influence of the 

limate. 

My dream of absolute sovereignty, however, is at an end : 1 

as roused from it lately by the report of fire-arms, which 

everberated among the towers as if the castle had been taken 

ty surprise. On sallying forth I found an old cavalier with a 
umber of domestics in possession of the hall of ambassadors. 
ie was an ancient Count, who had come up from his palace in 
brranada to pass a short time in the Alhanibra for the benefit 
^f purer air, and who, being a veteran and inveterate sports- 
nan, was endeavouring to get an aj^petite for his breakfast by 
[booting at swallows from the balconies. It was a harmless 
musement, for though, by the alertness of his attendants in 
loading his pieces, he was enabled to keep up a brisk fire, 1 
iould not accuse him of the death of a single swallow. Nay. 
he birds themselves seemed to enjoy the sport, and to deride 
is want of skill, skimming in circles close to the balconies, 
nd twittering as they darted by. 

The arrival of this old gentleman has in some measure 
hanged the aspect of affairs, but has likewise afforded matter 
3r agreeable speculation. We have tacitly shared the empire 
etween us, like the last kings of Granada, excepting that we 
laintain a most amicable alliance. He reigns absolute over 
le Court of the Lions and its adjacent halls, while I maintain 



128 THE ALHAMBBA. 

peaceful possession of the region of the baths and the httle 
garden of Lindaraxa. We take our meals together under the 
arcades of the court, where the fountains cool the air, and 
bubbling rills run along the channels of the ma.rble pavement. 

In the evening, a domestic circle gathers about the worthy 
old cavalier. The countess comes up from the city, with a 
favourite daughter about sixteen years of age. Then there 
are the official dependents of the Count, his chaplain, his law- 
yer, his secretary, his steward, and others officers and agents 
of his extensive possessions. Thus he holds a kind of domestic 
court, where every person seeks to contribute to his amuse- 
ment, without sacrificing his own pleasure or self-respect. In 
fact, whatever may be said of Spanish pride, it certainly does 
not enter into social or domestic life. Among no people are 
the relations between kindred more cordial, or between supe- 
rior and dependent more frank and genial; in these respects 
there stiU remains, in the provincial life of Spain, much of 
the vaunted sunplicity of the olden times. 

The most interesting member of this family group, however, ; 
is the daughter of the Count, the charming though almost infan- j 
tile little Carmen. Her form has not yet attained its maturity, ' j 
but has already the exquisite symmetry and pliant grace so ' 
prevalent in this country. Her blue eyes, fair complexion, 
and light hair are unusual in Andalusia, and give a mildness ^ 
and gentleness to her demeanour, in contrast to the usual fire I 
of Spanish beauty, but in perfect unison with the guileless and i; 
confiding innocence of her manners. She has, however, all the f 
innate aptness and versatility of her fascinating country- -j 
women, and sings, dances, and plays the guitar and other- 
instruments to admiration. A few days after taking up his ) 
residence in the Alhambra, the Count gave a domestic fete on 'J 
his saint's day, assembling round him the members of his ^ 
family and household, while several old servants came from M 
his distant possessions to pay their reverence to him, and par 
take of the good cheer. 

This patriarchal spirit which characterized the Spanish no- 
bility in the days of their opulence has declined with thei 
fortunes; but some who, hke the Count, still retain their an- Ifi 
cient family possessions, keep up a little of the ancient system, 1st 
and have their estates overrun and almost eaten up by genera- 1 
tions of idle retainers. According to this magnificent old I 
S:^cnisli system, in which the national pride nnd generosity fij 
bore equal parts, a superannuated servant w^as never turned fe 



r 'if 



VimVRS TO TlIK ALHAMBHA. ,29 

i Off but became a charge for the rest of his days- nav hi. 
cha dren, and his children's children, and often thd'rehUons 
to the right and left, became graduaUy entailed upon tT; 
fa.nUy Hence the huge palaces of the Spanish nobihty 
ne , of r'""'' ^^ ''^ °^ empty ostentation from the 3 
n!l ''f*'^"^'^^™. compared with the mediocrity and scm:^ 

lavs of t'v T'*.^'^' ^'"' '^'^^'''"t^'y required^n the gdden 
ilajs of bpam by the patriarchal habits of their nossosso,^ 
fhey were httle better than vast barracks for the CedTtrv 
. enerations of hangers-on that battened at the expense of a 

"of the tin Jd'' """"^^ ^^"'^*' "'^^ »>- estates r^r^ous 
IpH ffo K ^'■^g^<'f ' assures me that some of them barely 
eed the hordes of dependents nestled upon them- who con 
ider themselves entitled to be maintained upon tl^'prce rent" 
ree because theii- forefathers have been so foi genemfens 
The domestic fete of the Count broke in upon treusutl still 

Ml'safn Tali:%, ''"^" ^""^ '^"^'^^^^ re'sound:dTh:oS 
B late silent halls; there were groups of the guests amusine- 

emselves about the galleries and gardens, and officios sef 
ants from town hurrying through the courts, berrinT^and; 
f the ancient kitchen, which was again alive with the ti^ad of 
She Sf f f '°°^'/"d '^''^-ed with unwonted fires. 

The feast for a Spanish set dinner is hterally a feast was 
tts • rthe'slt -o-scohall called "la sala Je laSlT 
Snce .ndT ^' *''" '^"'"'■^'^ '^^ *^We groaned with 
^rk foi 'thouVtheT' .c^^i-i'-'Iity prevailed round the 
tole thevr!.n , ?P^"'^':?^ '^'•e generally an abstemious 
ppie, they are complete revellers at a banquet 

*or my own part, there was something peculiarly interest- 

a tve »'".*i"^ ^* ^ ^'"^*' *" *1^« royal haUs of the IVw 

mtrorsfotr'^'' ■'"*,",""' °' °°^°^ "-^-«* renowned 
E Tthe Iine«l i ^^''r^^^'' Count, though unwarlike him- 
.18 the meal descendant and representative of the "Greit 
?tmn 'the Illustrious Gonsalvo of Cordova, whose swo^d 
Zt: m the archives of his palace at Granada 

tessadors T"^' ''"' °°'"P'''"^ ^<^-'^"™^<l *» t^^e hall of 
oassadors Here every one contributed to the general 

^ement by exerting some peculiar talent; sin£ig,Tmpro 

tehsmaifo^'C''!"' /"'''• •''• ^'''"""^*° that^afipervad- 
lausman oi Spanish pleasure, the guitar 

lifted ^m'p™"^ *'^ir'^°l« assemblage, however, wa« 

i£ ftl« ^L 7"°- ^}'' ^""^ ^"^ P'*'-* '" t«'0 er three 
tes fiom Spanish comedies, exhibiting a charming dra- 



230 Tim ALIIAMBRA. , 

niatic talent; she n:avc imitations of the popular Italian sing* : 
ers with singular and whimsical felicity, and a rare quahty oi 
vo^-'ce- she imitated the dialects, dances and ballads of the^ 
o-ipsies and the neighbouring peasantry, but did everything; 
with a faciUty, a neatness, a grace, and an all-pervadmg pret-j 
tiness, that were perfectly fascinating. The great charm oi | 
hpr performances, however, was their being free from aU pre j 
tension or ambition of display. She seemed unconscious oJj 
the extent of her own talents, and in fact is accustomed onl^ j 
to exert them casually, like a child, for the amusement of th( 
domestic circle. Her observation and tact must be remark 
ably Vick, for her life is passed in the bosom of her family 
and she can only have had casual and transient glances a 
the various characters and traits, brought out impromptu h 
moments of domestic hilarity, hke the one in question. It i 
pleasing to see the fondness and admiration with which ever; 
one of the household regards her: she is never spoken of, eve] 
by the domestics, by any other appellation than that of L 
Nifia "the child," an appellation which thus applied ha 
something peculiarly kind and endearing in the Spanish lar *, 

guage. , 1 

Never shall I think of the Alhambra without remembermj 
the lovely little Carmen sporting in happy and innocent gir ' 
hood in its marble halls; dancing to the sound of the Mooris 
castanets, or mingling the silver warbhng of her voice wit , 
the music of the fountains. 

On this festive occasion several curious and amusing legenc 
and traditions were told; many of which have escaped ffi 
memory ; but of those that most struck me, I will endeavor 
to shape forth some entertainment for the reader. 



LEGEND OF PEINCE AHMED AL KAMEL; 

OR, 

THE PILGRIM OF LOVE. 

There was once a Moorish King of Granada who had 1 1 
one son, whom he named Ahmed, to which his courtiers addj 
the surname of al Kamel, or the perfect, from the indubitai|f: 
signs of super-excellence which they perceived in him mj'| 
very infancy. The astrologers counteDanced them in thm 



LEQESV OF PIirA-CE AIJMIW AL KAMKL. i;ji 

mnTi?^' ff '<=""« «^«ry thing in his favour that could 
make a perfect pnnce and a prosperous sovereign 6ne cloud 
only rested upon his destiny, and even that wS of a ^osc^te 

■n the anure.:,tt:^nr un^Ii ^^rilSe'^aHLL^ ^!i;* 
nn'-^ercti^oTS;-^^ "^ ^'^ "— ^ - -i:^- 
I'o prevent all danger of the kind, the king wisely deter 

s^, a temale face nor hear even the name of love For tlii • 
purpose he buUt a beautiful palace on the brow of a hiu above 

*t the preU laytyi^T^^ri: Sliifar ^afiS" l'" th" 
oaJace the youthful prince was shut up <-md entrusted to tt' 
?i.ardianship and instruction of Ebon Bonabbon one nf .1 

ZS r'^f °' i^'^'^'^" ^^^^^' -^otTpiThe g re 't! 
^st part of his hfe in Egypt, studying hieroglvphics and mak 
ng researches among the tombs and pyramids Td who saw 
aore charms in an Egyptian mummy than in the mort templ^ 
.rincl "?, ^'^".*'''- '^^' ^'''«^^^« °r^«'-*^d to instruct the 
l^^l^nrttf^o1^-.r?ve^r?-e^-u^^^^^^^^ 

-° A wftwi ^ ^°"' '"*''^' ^''"'' ^"""^ shall answer for 
onab^brSeiracr^rery!f^.^Sft*^^^^^ 
-y about your son as mine is fbo^ut^Xaf \mTa t:: 
l.^eiy to give lessons in the idle passion?" ° 

.• Lnder the vigilant care of the phUosopher, the prince grew 
. in the seclusion of the palace and its gardens HelZ 

"I W or iftl e"T, '^rr'-^-- -tes. who'ln'w 

mm ot love oi if they did, had not words to communicate 

H mental endowments were the peculiar care o eC 

bui Tn t°his°"tf * *° '^''' ''^ '"*° theabstruse lore of 
^ > lit, but m this the prince made httle progress and it wn= 
B .n evident that he had no turn for philosoX 
ridv^fAlf'"^''''""' ^™»^'"gly 'I'-ctile for a youthful prince- 
or k! "^ """^ ^"'r^ ^°^' ''''^^y« glided by the last coun- 

kg and wThT''* ""'^ ^'"T"'' "■^'J l^«*«"<"i patiently to he 
*.g and learned discoui-ses of Ebon Bonabbon, from which he 



132 THE ALTIAMBRA. 

imbibed a smattering of various kinds of knowledge, and thus 
happily attained his twentieth year, a miracle of princely wis- 
dom, but totally ignorant of love. 

About this time, however, a change came over the conduct 
of the prince. He completely abandoned his studies and took 
to strolling about the gardens and musing by the side of the 
fountains. He had been taught a little music among his vari- 
ous accomplishments; it now engrossed a great part of his 
tune, and a turn for poetry became apparent. The sage Ebon 
Bonabbon took the alarm, and endeavoured to work these idlei 
humours out of him by a severe course of algebra ; but the 
prince turned from it with distaste. " I cannot endure alge- 
bra," said he; " it is an abomination to me. I want something 
that speaks more to the heart." 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon shook his dry head at the words 
*' Here's an end to philosophy," thought he. " The prince has 
discovered he has a heart !" He now kept anxious watch upor 
his pupil, and saw that the latent tenderness of his natur( 
was in activity, and only wanted an object. He wanderec 
about the gardens of the Generaliffe in an intoxication o1 
feelings of which he knew not the cause. Sometimes h( 
would sit plunged in a delicious reverie ; then he would seiz< 
his lute and draw from it the most touching notes, an( 
then throw it aside, and break forth into sighs and ejacula 
tions. 

By degrees this loving disposition began to extend to inani 
mate objects ; he had his favourite flowers which he cherishe( 
■with tender; assiduity then he became attached to variou 
trees, and there was one in particular, of a graceful form an< 
drooping foliage, on which he lavished his amorous devc^ 
tion, carving his name on its bark, hanging garlands on itij 
branches, and singing couplets in its praise, to the accompani 
ment of his lute. 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon was alarmed at this excited stat j 
of his pupil. He saw him on the very brink of f orbidde: | 
knowledge— the least hint might reveal to him the fatal secre' 
Trembling for the safety of the prince, and the security c . 
his own head, he hastened to draw him from the seductiori L 
of the garden, and shut him up in the highest tower ( 
the Generaliffe. It contained beautiful apartments, and con 
manded an almost boundless prospect, but was elevated fs 
above that atmosphere of sweets and those witching bowers e 
dangerous to the feelings of the too susceptible Ahmed. 



LEGEND OF PlilACE AHMED AL RAM EL. y^r^ 

! What was to be done, however, to reconcile him to this 
restraint and to beguile the tedious hours? He had cxhausroH 
almost all kinds of agreeable knowledge; and al^ra was 
not to be mentioned. Fortunately Ebon Bonabbon had b(>en 
mstructed when in Egypt, in the language of birds by a 
iJewisa Kabbm who had received it in lineal transmission 
|from Solomon the wise, who had been taught it by the (^^een 
ot Sheba. At the very mention of such a study the evcT of 
he prince sparkled with animation, and he applied himself 

^ hL ml^tel '' '''"' ""' '""" "^'"^""^^ "^ ^'^'^' -^ ^-d-Pt 

The tower of the Generaliffe was no longer a sohtude- he 
bad compamons at hand with whom he could converse The 
ii-st acquaintance he formed was with a hawk who had built 
us nest^m a crevice of the lofty battlements, from whence he 
.oared far and wide in quest of prey. The prince, however 
ound httle to hke or esteem in hmi. He was a mere pirat^ 
tf the air, swaggering and boastfid, whose talk was all about 
apme, and carnage, and desperate exploits 

His next acquaintance was an owl, a mighty wise-looking 
•ird, with a large head and staring eyes, who sat blinking 
nd goggling all day in a hole in the wall, but roamed forth at 
ight He had gr(.at pretensions to ^dsdom ; talked something 
f astrology and the moon, and hinted at the dark sciences 
^^J^^ grievously given to metaphysics, and the prince 
)und his prosmgs were more ponderous than those of the 
Jge Ebon Bonabbon. 

Tlien there was a bat, that hung all day by his heels in the 
ark corner of a vault, but sallied out in a slip-shod style at 
•/^ ;. ' ^^''^^^^^' had but twilight ideas on all subjects 
prided things of which he had taken but an imperfect view' 
id seemed to take delight in nothing. ' 

Beside these there was a swallow, with whom the prince 
as at fii-st much taken. He was a smart talker, but restless 
isthng and for ever on the wing; seldom remaining long 
^ough for any continued conversation. He turned out in the 
id to be a mere smatterer, who did but skim over the surface 

things, pretending to know every thing, but knowing noth- 
g thorouglily. ^ 

These were the only feathered associates with whom the 

Ince had any opportunity of exercising his newly acquii-ed 

Iiguage; the tower was too high for any other birds to fre- 

cent it. He soon grew weary of his new acquaintances, 



134 THE ALJIAMBUA. 

whose conversation spake so little to the head and nothing to 
the heart ; and gradually relapsed into his loneliness. A win- 
ter passed away, spring opened with all its bloom, and 
verdure, and breathing sweetness, and the happy time arrived 
for birds to pair and build their nests. Suddenly, as it were, 
a universal burst of song and melody broke forth from the 
groves and gardens of the Generaliffe, and reached the prince 
in the solitude of his tower. From every side he heard the 
same universal theme- love — love— love— chaunted forth andi 
responded to in every variety of note and tone. The prince 
listened in silence and perplexity. "What can be this love,' 
thought he, " of which the world seems so full, and of which ] 
know nothing?" He applied for information to his friend th( 
hawk. The ruffian bird answered in a tone of scorn, — "Yoi' 
must apply," said he, "to the vidgar, peaceable birds of earth 
who are made for the prey of us princes of the air. My trad( 
is war, and fighting my delight. In a word, I am a warrior 
and know notliing of this thing called love." 

The prince turned from him w*ith disgust, and sought the h 
owd in his retreat. "This is a bird," said he, "of peacefu j 
habits, and maybe able to solve my question." So he aske( 
the owl to tell him what was this love about which all the bird; 
in the groves below were singing. 

Upon this the oavI put on a look of offended dignity. " Mi 
nights," said he, "are taken up in study and research, and nn 
days in ruminating in myself upon all that I have learnt. A 
to these singing birds of whom you talk, I never listen to them 
I despise them and their themes. Allah be praised, I cannaj 
sing. In a word, I am a philosopher, and know nothing o 
this thing called love." 

The prince now repaired to the vault where Ms friend th 
bat was hanging by the heels, and propounded the same ques 
tion. The bat wrinkled up his nose into a most snappish eiv^ 
pression. "Why do you disturb me in my morning's na itj, 
\vith such an idle question," said he peevishly. "I onlyflli^ 
by twihght when aU birds are asleep, and never trouble mysc!i:| 
with their concerns. I am neither bird nor beast, and I than' 41 
heaven for it. I have found out the villainy of the whole e ; 
them, and hate them, one and all. In a word, I am a mi 
anthrope, and know nothing of this thing called love." 

As a last resort, the prince was now sought the swallow, an 
stopped him just as he was circling about the summit of th f , 
tower. The swallow as usual was in a prodigious hurry, aa-L 



LEG KM) OF PIU^'CK AlIMKl) AL KAMEL. I'SC) 

had scarce time to make a reply. " Upon my word," said he, 
" I have so much pubUc business to attend to, and so many 
pursuits to follow, that I have had no time to think on the 
subject. I have every day a thousand visits to pay ; a thou- 
sand affairs of importance to examine into, that leave me not a 
moment of leisure for these little sing-song matters. In a 
word, I am a citizen of the world. I know nothing of this 
thing called love." So saying, the swallow dived into the 
valley and was out of sight in a moment. 

The prince remained disappointed and perplexed, but with 
his curiosity still more piqued by the difficulty of gratifying it. 
While in this mood his ancient guardian entered the tower. 
The prince advanced eagerly to meet him. " Oh sage Ebon 
Bonabbon, " cried he, ' ' thou hast revealed to me much of the 
wisdom of the earth, but there is one thing of which I remain 
in utter ignorance, and would fain be informed." 

My prince has but to make the inquiry, and every thing 
witliin the limited range of his servant's intellect is at his com- 
mand." 

' Tell me then, oh most profound of sages, what is the na- 

tbure of this thing called love?" 
The sage Ebon Bonabbon was struck as with a thunderbolt. 
He trembled and turned pale, and felt as if his head sat but 
loosely on his shoulders. 

' What could suggest such a question to my prince?— where 
jould he have learnt so idle a word?" 

The prince led him to the window of the tower. " Listen, 
)h Ebon Bonabbon !" said he. The sage hstened. The night- 
ngale sat in a thicket below the tower singing to his paramour, 
ihe rose ; from every blossomed spray and tufted grove arose 

strain of melody, and love — love —love, was still the unvary- 
ng theme. ''Allah Achbar! God is great!" exclaimed the 
vise Bonabbon. " Who shall pretend to keep this secret from 
ihe hearts of men when even the birds of the air conspire to 
)etray it?" 

Then turning to Ahmed, "Oh my prince," cried he, "shut 
hine ears to these seductive strains. Close thy mind against 
his dangerous knowledge. Know that this love is the cause 
f half the ills of wretched mortality. It is this which pro- 
Luces bitterness of strife between brethren and friends; which 
auses treacherous murder and desolating war. Care and sor- 

w, weary days and sleepless nights, are its attendants. It 

ithers the bloom and blights the joys of youth, and brings 



luc 
■ai] 
io^ 

r 



136 THE ALUAMBUA. 

on the ills and griefs of premature old age. Allah preserve 
thee, my prince, in total ignorance of this thing called love !" 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon hastily retired, leaving the prince 
plunged in still deeper peri^lexity. It was in vain he ftt- 
tempted to dismiss the subject from his mind; it still con- 
tinued uppermost in his thoughts, and teased and exhausted 
him with vain conjectures. " Surely ," said he to himself as 
he listened to the tuneful strains of the birds, "there is no 
sorrow in these notes : every thing seems tenderness and joy. 
If love be a cause of such wretchedness and strife, why are 
not those birds drooping in solitude, or tearing each other in 
pieces, instead of fluttering cheerfully about the groves, or 
sporting with each other among the flowers?" 

He lay one morning on his couch meditating on this in- 
explicable matter. The window of his chamber was open to 
admit the soft morning breeze which came laden with the per- l 
fume of orange blossoms from the valley of the Darro. The ' 
voice of the nightingale was faintly heard, still chanting the 
wonted theme. As the prince was listening and sighing, there 
was a sudden rushing noise in the air ; a beautiful dove, pur- 
sued by a hawk, darted in at the window and fell panting on j 
the floor; while the pui'suer, balked of his prey, soared off to | 
the mountains. | 

The prince took up the gasping bird, smoothed its feathers, 
and nestled it in his bosom. When he had soothed it by his 
caresses he put it in a golden cage, and offered it, with his 
own hands, the wliitest and finest of wheat and the purest of 1' 
water. The bird, however, refused food, and sat drooping and I 
pining, and uttering piteous moans. 

"What aileth thee?" said Ahmed. "Hast thou not every 
thing thy heart can wish?" 

"Alas, no !" rephed the dove, " am I not separated from the 
partner of my heart— and that too in the happy spring-time— 
the very season of love?" i 

"Of love!" echoed Ahmed. "I pray thee, my pretty bird, ! 
canst thou then tell me what is love?" 

" Too well can I, my prince. It is the torment of one, the 
fehcity of two, the strife and enmity of three. It is a charm ;ife 
which draws two beings together, and unites them by delicious ' e 
sympathies, making it happiness to be with each other, but i \ 
misery to be apart. Is there no being to whom you are drawn 
by these ties of tender affection?" 

' ' I like my old teacher, Ebon Bonabbon, better than any 



JJ^JGKND OF PRINCE AlIMKD AL KAMKL. I37 

other being; but he is often tedious, and I occasionally feel 
myseK happier without his society. " 

"That is not the sympathy I mean. I speak of love, tho 
great mystery and principle of life ; the intoxicating revel of 
youth ; the sober delight of age. Look forth my prince, aiid 
behold how at this blest season all nature is full of love. Every 
created being has its mate ; the most insignificant bird sings to 
its paramour ; the very beetle woos its lady beetle in the dust, 
and yon butterflies which you see fluttering high above the 
tower and toying in the air are happy in each otlier's love. 
Alas, my prince ! hast thou spent so many of the precious days 
of youth without knowing any thing of love ! Is there no gen- 
tle being of another sex ; no beautiful princess, or lovely damsel 
who has ensnared your heart, and filled yoiu* bosom with a 
soft tumult of pleasing pains and tender wishes?" 
I "I begin to understand !" said the prince sighing. " Such a 
! tumult I have more than once experienced vrithout knowing 
1 the cause ; and where should I seek for an object such as you 
idescribe in this dismal solitude?" 

A little further conversation ensued, and the first amatory 
plesson of the prince was complete. 

, "Alas!" said he, " if love be indeed such a delight, and its 
interruption such a misery, Allah forbid that I should mar tlie 
joy of any of its votaries." He opened the cage, took out the 
dove, and, having fondly kissed it, carried it to the window. 
I* 'Go, happy bird;" said he, " rejoice with the partner of thy 
lieart in the days of youth and spring-time. Why should I 
nake thee a fellow prisoner in this dreary tower, where love 
)an never enter?" 

The dove flapped its wings in rapture, gave one vault into 
;he air, and then swooped downward on whisthng wings to 
lie blooming bowei*s of the Darro. 

The prince followed him with his eyes, and then gave way to 
)itter repining. The singing of the birds which once dehghted 
dm now added to his bitterness. Love! love! level! Alas, 
)00r youth, he now understood the strain. 

His eyes flashed fire when next he beheld the sage Bonab- 
K)n. "Why hast thou kept me in this abject ignorance?" 
ried he. "Why has the great mystery and principle of life 
►een withheld from me, in which I find the meanest insect is 

10 learned? Behold all nature is in a revel of delight. Every 
reated being rejoices with its mate. This — this is the love 
bout which I have sought instruction ; why am I alone de- 



138 THE ALHAMBRA. 

barred its enjoyment? why hast so much of my youth been 
wasted without a knowledge of its rapture?" 

The sage Bonabbon saw that all further reserve was use- 
less, for the prince had acquired the dangerous and forbidden 
knowledge. He revealed to him, therefore, the predictions 
of the astrologers, and the precautions that had been taken 
in his education to avert the threatened evils. "And now, ,1 
my prince," added he, "my life is in your hands. Let theji 
king your father discover that you have learned the passion t 
of love while mider my guardianship, and my head must an- 
swer for it." 

The prince was as reasonable as most young men of his age, , 
and easily listened to the remonstrances of his tutor, since , I 
nothing pleaded against them. Beside, he really was at- f 
tached to the sage Bonabbon, and being as yet but theoreti- 
cally acquainted with the passion of love, he consented to i 
confine the knowledge of it to his own bosom, rather than ^ 
endanger the head of the philosopher. His discretion was 
doomed, however, to be put to still further proofs. A few 
mornings afterwards, as he was ruminating on the battle- 
ments of the tower, the dove which had been released by him i 
came hovering in the air, and alighted fearlessly upon his ii 
shoulder. ! 

The prince fondled it to his breast. " Happy bird," said he, 
*' who can fly, as it were, with the wings of the morning to 
the uttermost parts of the earth. Where hast thou been smce 
we parted?" 

"In a far country, my prince; from whence I bring you j 
tidings in reward for my liberty. In the wide compass of my <' 
flight, which extends over plain and mountain, as I was soar- i 
ing in the air, I beheld below me a delightful garden with all - ' 
kinds of fruits and flowers. It was in a green meadow on 
the banks of a meandering stream, and in the centre of the 
garden was a stately palace. I alighted in one of the bowers 
to repose after my weary flight ; on the green bank below me ; 
was a youthful princess in the very sweetness and bloom of 
her years. She was surrounded by female attendants, young 
Hke herself, who decked her with garlands and coronets of 
flowers ; but no flower of field or garden could compare with 
her for lovehness. Here, however, she bloomed in secret, for 
the garden was surrounded by high walls, and no mortal man 
was permitted to enter. When I beheld this beauteous maid 
thus young, and innocent, and unspotted by the world, I 



LEGEND OF PRINCE MIMED AL KAMEL. I39 

thought, here is the being formed by heaven to inspire my 
prince with love. " 

The description was as a spark of fire to the combustiblo 
heaii; of Ahmed ; all the latent amorousness of his temi>ora- 
ment had at once found an object, and he conceived an 
immeasurable passion for the princess. He wrote a letter- 
couched in the most impassioned language, breathing his fer- 
vent devotion, but bcwaihng the unhappy thraldom of his per 
son, which prevented him from seeking her out, and throwing 
himself at her feet. He added couplets of the most tender 
and moving eloquence, for he was a poet by nature and in- 
spired by love. He addressed his letter, "To the unknoAvn 
beauty, from the captive prince Ahmed," then perfuming it 

i with musk and roses, he gave it to the dove. 

!* "Away, trustiest of messengers," said he. " Flyover moun- 

! tain, and valley, and river, and plain; rest not in bower nor 
set foot on earth, until thou hast given this letter to the mis- 
tiess of my heart." 

The dove soared high in air, and taking his course darted 
aAvay in one undeviating direction. The prince followed him 
with his eye until he was a mere speck on a cloud, and grad- 
ually disappeared behind a mountain. 

Da J' after day he watched for the return of the messenger 
of love ; but he watched in vain. He began to accuse him of 
forgetfulness, when towards sunset, one evening, the faithful 
bird fluttered into his apartment, and, falling at his feet, ex- 

\ pired. The a^rrow of some wanton archer had pierced liis 

1 breast, yet he had struggled with the lingerings of life to exe- 
cute his mission. As the prince bent with grief over this 
_ gentle martyr to fidelity, he beheld a chain of pearls round 
his neck, attached to which, beneath his wing, was a small 
enamelled picture. It represented a lovely princess in the 
very flower of her years. It was, doubtless, the unknown 
beauty of the garden : but who and where was she— how had 
she received his letter— and was this picture sent as a token 
of an approval of his passion? Unfortunately, the death of 
the faithful dove left every thing in mystery and doubt. 

The prince gazed on the picture till his eyes swam with 
tears. He pressed it to his lips and to his heart ; ho sat for 
hours contemplating it in an almost agony of tenderness. 
"Beautiful image!" said he. "Alas, thou art but an image. 
Yet thy dewy eyes beam tenderly upon me; tliose rosy lips 
look as though they would speak encouragement. Vain fan- 



140 TEE ALHAMBRA 

cies! Have they not looked the same on some more happy 
rival? But where in this wide world shall I hope to find the 
original? Who knows what mountains, what realms may 
separate us? What adverse chance may intervene? Perhaps 
now, even now, lovers may be crowding around her, while I 
sit here, a prisoner in a tower, wasting my time in adoration 
of a painted shadow." 

The resolution of prince Ahmed was taken. "I will fly from 
this palace," said he, "which has become an odious prison, and, 
a pilgrim of love, wiU' seek this unknown princess throughout 
the world." 

To escape from the tower in the day, when every one was 
awake, might be a difficult matter; but at night the palace 
was slightly guarded, for no one apprehended any attempt of 
the kind from the prince, who had always been so passive in 
his captivity. How was he to guide himself, however, in his 
darkhng flight, being ignorant of the country? He bethought 
him of the owl, who was accustomed to roam at night, and 
must know every by-lane and secret pass. Seeking him in his 
hermitage, he questioned him touching his knowledge of the 
land. Upon this the owl put on a mighty self-important look. 

"You must know, O prince," said he, "that we owls are of 
a very ancient and extensive family, though rather fallen to 
decay, and possess ruinous castles and palaces in all parts of 
Spain. There is scarcely a tower of the mountains, or fortress 
of the plains, or an old citadel of a city but has some brother, 
or uncle, or cousin quartered in it; and in going the rounds 
to visit these my numerous kindred 1 have pryed into every 
nook and corner, and made myseK acquainted with every 
secret of the land." 

The prince was overjoyed to find the owl so deeply versed 
in topography, and now informed him, in confidence, of his 
tender passion and his intended elopement, urging him to be 
his companion and counsellor. 

"Go to!" said the owl, with a look of displeasure. "Am I 
a bird to engage in a love affair ; I whose whole time is devoted 
to meditation and the moon !" 

"Be not offended, most solemn owl!" replied the prince. 
' ' Abstract thyself for a time from meditation and the moon, 
and aid me in my flight, and thou shalt have whatever heart 
can wish." 

"I have that already," said the owl. "A few mice are suffi- 
cient for my frugal table, and this hole in the wall is spacious 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 141 

enough for my studies, and what more does a philosopher hko 
myself desire?" 

"Bethink thee, most wise owl, that while moping in thy cell 
and gazing at the moon all thy talents are lost to the world. I 
shall one day be a sov^ereign prince, and may advance thee to 
some post of honour and dignity." 

The owl, though a philosopher and above the ordinary 
V\'ants of life, was not above ambition, so he was finally pre- 
vailed upon to elope with the prince, and be his guide and 
Mentor in his pilgrimage. 

The plans of a lover are promptly executed. The prince col- 
lected all his jewels, and concealed them about his person as 
travelling funds. That very night he lowered himself by his 
scarf from a balcony of the tower, clambered over the outer 
walls of the Generaliffe, and, guided by the owl, made good his 
escape before morning to the mountains. 

He now held a comicil with his Mentor as to his future 
course. 

"Might I advise," said the owl, "I would recommend you 
to repair to Seville. You must know that many years since I 
was on a visit to ah uncle, an owl of great dignity and power, 
who lived in a mined wing of the Alcazar of that place. In 
my hoverings at night over the city, I frequently remarked a 
light burning in a lonely tower. At length I ahghted on the 
battlements, and found it to proceed from the lamp of an Ara- 
bian magician. He was surrounded by his magic books, and 
on his shoulder was perched his familiar, an ancient raven, 
who had come with him from Egypt. I became acquainted 
with that raven, and owe to him a great part of the know- 
ledge I possess. The magician is since dead, but the raven 
still inhabits the tower, for these birds are of wonderful long 
Hfe. I would advise you, O prince, to seek that raven, for 
he is a soothsayer and a conjuror, and deals in the black art, 
for which all ravens, and especially those of Egypt, are re- 
nowned." 

The prince was struck with the wisdom of this advice, and 
accordingly bent his course towards Seville. He travelled 
only in the night, to accommodate his companion, and lay by 
during the day in some dark cavern or moiddering watch- 
tower, fer the owl knew every hiding hole of the kind in the 
country, and had a most antiquarian taste for ruins. 
At length, one morning at day-break, they reached the city 
f Seville, where the owl, who hated the glare and bustle of 



if 



142 ^'^^^^ ALIIAMBBA. 

crowded streets, halted without the gate, and took up his 
quarters in a hollow troe. 

The prince entered the gate, and readily found the magic 
tower, which rose above the houses of the city as a palm-tree 
rises above the shrubs of the desert. It was, in fact, the same 
tower knov\m at the present day as the Giralda, the famous 
Moorish tower of Seville. 

The prince ascended by a great winding staircase to the 
summit of the tower, where he found the cabalistic raven, an 
old, mysterious, gray-headed bird, ragged in feather, with a 
film over one eye that gave him the glare of a spectre. He 
was perched on one leg, with his head turned on one side, and 
poring with his remaining eye on a diagram described on the 
pavement. 

The prince approached him with the awe and reverence 
naturally inspired by his venerable appearance and super- 
natural wisdom. ' ' Pardon me, most ancient and darkly wise 
raven," exclahned he, "if for a moment I interrupt those 
studies which are the wonder of the world. You behold before 
you a votary of love, who would fain seek counsel how to ob- 
tain the object of his passion." 

"In other words," said the raven, with a significant look, 
*' you seek to try my skiU in palmistry. Come, show me your 
hand, and let me decipher the mysterious lines of fortune." 

"Excuse me," said the prince, "I come not to pry into the 
decrees of fate, which are hidden by Allah from the eyes of 
mortals. I am a pilgrim of love, and seek but to find a clue to 
the object of my pilgrimage." 

"And can you be at any loss for an object in amorous 
Andalusia?" said the old raven, leering upon him with his 
single eye. "Above all, can you be at a loss in wanton Seville, 
where black-eyed damsels dance the zambra under every 
orange grove?" 

The prince blushed, and was somev\^hat shocked at hearing 
an old bird, with one foot in the grave, talk thus loosely. 
"Believe me " said he gravely, "I am on none such Hght and 
vagrant errand as thou dost insinuate. The black-eyed dam- 
sels of Andalusia who dance among the orange groves of the 
Guadalquiver, are as naught to me. I seek one unknown but 
immaculate beauty, the original of this picture, and I beseech 
thee, most potent raven, if it be within the scope of thy know- 
ledge, or the reach of thy art, inform me where she may be 
foundo" 



LEG END OF PIUNCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 143 

The gray-headed raven was rebuked by the gravity of the 
prince. "What know I," repUed he drylj^, "of youth and 
beauty? My visits are to the old and Avithered, not the young 
and fair. Tlie harbinger of fate am I, who croak bodings of 
death from the chimney top, and flap my wings at the sick 
man's window. You must seek elsewhere for tidings of your 
unlvuown beauty." 

"And where am I to seek, if not among the sons of wisdom, 
versed in the book of destiny? A royal prince am I, fated by 
the stars, and sent on a mysterious enterprise, on which may 
hang the destiny of empires." 

When the raven heard that it was a matter of vast moment, 
in which the stars took interest, he changed his tone and 
manner, and listened with profound attention to the story of 
the prince. When it was concluded, he replied, "Touching 
this princess, I can give thee no information of myself, for my 
flight is not among gardens or around ladies' bowers ; but hie 
thee to Cordova, seek the palm-tree of the great Abderahman, 
which stands in the court of the principal mosque; at the foot 
of it you will find a gieat traveller, who has visited all coun- 
tries and courts, and been a favourite with queens and prin- 
cesses. He will give you tidings of the object of your 
search." 

"Many thanks for this precious information," said the 
prince. ''FarcAvelJ, most venerable conjuror." 

"Farewell, pilgrim of love," said the raven dryly, and again 
fell to pondering on the diagram. 

The prince sallied forth from Se^dlle, sought his fellow- 
traveller the owl, who was still dozing in the hollow tree, and 
sot off for Cordova. 

He approached it along hanging gardens, and orange and 
citron groves overlooking the fair valley of the Guadalquiver. 
When arrived at its gates, the owl flew up to a dark hole in 
the wall, and the prince proceeded in quest of the palm-tree 
planted in days of yore by the great Abderahman. It stood in 
the midst of the great court of the Mosque, towering from 
idst ora^nge and cypress trees. Dervises and Faquirs were 
ted in groups under the cloistei-s of the court, and many of 

e faithful were performing their ablutions at the fountains, 

fore entering the Mosque. 

At the foot of the palm-tree was a crowd listening to the 
^ words of one who appeared to be talking with great volubility. 
This, said the prince to himself, must be the great traveller 



144 ^'^^^ ALIIAMBRA. 

who is to give me tidings of the unknown princess. He 
mingled in the crowd, but was astonished to perceive that 
they were all listening to a parrot, who, with his bright green 
coat, pragmatical eye, and consequential topknot, had the aii* 
of a bird on excellent terms with himself. 

"How is this," said the prince to one of the bystanders, 
"that so many grave persons can be delighted with the garrul 
ity of a chattering bird?" 

" You know not of whom you speak," said the other; "this 
parrot is a descendant of the famous parrot of Persia, renowned 
for his story-telling talent. He has all the learning oi the East 
at the tip of his tongue, and can quote poetry as fast as he can 
talk. He has visited various foreign courts, where he has been 
considered an oracle of erudition. He has been a universal 
favourite also with the fair sex, who have a vast admiration 
for erudite parrots that can quote poetry." 

"Enough," said the prince, "I will have some private talk 
with this distinguished traveller." 

He sought a private interview, and expounded the nature of 
his errand. He had scarcely mentioned it when the parrot 
burst into a fit of dry rickety laughter, that absolutely brought 
tears in his eyes. " Excuse my mirth," said he, " but the mere 
mention of love always sets me laughing." 

The prince was shocked at this ill-timed merriment. " Is 
not love," said he, "the great mystery of nature, — the secret!; 
principle of life, — the universal bond of sympathy?" 

' ' A fig's end !" cried the parrot, interrupting him. ' ' Pry 'thee 
where hast thou learnt this sentimental jargon? Trust me, 
love is quite out of vogue ; one never heare of it in the company 
of wits and people of refinement." 

The prince sighed as he recalled the different language of his 
friend the dove. But this parrot, thought he, has lived about 
court; he affects the Y\^it and the fine gentleman; he knows 
nothing of the thing called love. 

Unwilling to provoke any more ridicule of the sentiment j 
which filled his heart, he now directed his inquiries to the j 
immediate purport of his visit. I 

"Tell me," said he, "most accomplished parrot, thou who | 
hast every where been admitted to the most secret bowers of . 
beauty, hast thou in the course of thy travels met with the ,1 
original of this portrait?" 

The parrot took the picture in his claw, turned his head from 
side to side, and examined it curiously with either eye. ' ' Upon. J 



LEG KM) OF rnn\CK AIIMEB AL KAMEL. 145 

my honour," said he, "a very pretty face; very pretty. ]3ut 
then one sees so many pretty women in one's travels that one 
can hardly— but hold— bless me ! now I look at it again— sure 
enough, this is the prmcess Ax^iegonda: how could I forget one 
that is so prodigious a favourite with me?" 

" The princess Aldegonda!" echoed the prince, "and where is 
she to be found?" 

"Softly — softly," said the parrot, "easier to be found than 
gained. She is the only daughter of the Christian king who 
reigns at Toledo, and is shut up from the world until her 
seventeenth birth-day, on account of some prediction of those 
meddlesome fellows, the astrologers. You'll not get a sight of 
her, no mortal man can see her. I was admitted to her pres- 
ience to entertain her, and I assure you, on the word of a parrot 
jwho has seen the w^orld, I have conversed with much siUier 
Iprincesses in my time." 

I "A word in confidence, my dear parrot," said the prince. 
" I am heir to a kingdom, and shall one day sit upon a throne. 
[[ see that you are a bird of parts and understood the word. 
Eelp me to gain possession of this princess and I will advance 
>rou to some distinguished post about court." 

" With all my heart," said the parrot; " but let it be a sine- 
cure if possible, for we wits have a great dislike to labour." 

Arrangements were promptly made ; the prince sallied forth 

|rom Cordova through the same gate by which he had entered ; 

ailed the owl down from the hole in the Avail, introduced hmi 

his new travelling companion as a brother sgavant, and away 

ey set off on their jom-ney. 

Tliey travelled much more slowly than accorded with the 

patience of the prince, but the parrot was accustomed to 

h life, and did not like to be disturbed early in the morning. 

e owl, on the other hand, was for sleeping at mid-day, and 

it a great deal of time by his long siestas. His antiquarian 

also was in the way ; for he insisted on pausing and in- 

ting every ruin, and had long legendary tales to tell about 

ery old tower and castle in the country. The prince liad 

pposed that he and the parrot, being both birds of learning, 

uld delight in each other's society, but never had he been 

ore mistaken. They were eternally bickering. The one was 

jwit, the other a pjiilosopher. The parrot quoted poetry, was 

tical on new readings, and 'eloquent on small points of eru- 

on; the owl treated all such knowledge as trifling, and 

ihed nothing but metaphysics. Then the parrot would sing 



:j45 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

songs and repeat bon mots, and crack jokes upon Ms solemn 
neighbour, and laugh outrageously at his own wit; all which 
the owl considered a grievous invasion of his dignity, and 
v^^ould scowlj and sulk, and swell, and sit silent for a whole day 
together. 

The prince heeded not the wranglings of his companions, 
being wrapped up in the dreams of his own fancy, and the 
contemplation of the portrait of the beautiful princess. In this 
way they journeyed through the stern passes of the Sierra Mo-; 
rena, across the sunburnt plains of La Mancha and Castile, and 
along the banks of the ' ' Golden Tagus, " which winds its wizard 
mazes over one-half of Spain and Portugal. At length, the^; 
came in sight of a strong city with walls and towers, built on 
a rocky promontory, round the foot of wliich the Tagus circleci 
with brawhng violence. 

"Behold," exclaimed the owl, ''the ancient and renowned! 
city of Toledo ; a city famous for its antiquities. Behold thos< 
venerable domes and towers, hoary with time, and clotheC 
with legendary grandeur ; in which so many of my ancestori 
have meditated — " 

" Pish," cried the parrot, interrupting his solemn antiqnariai 
rapture, "what have v/e to do with antiquities, and legends 
and your ancestors? Behold, what is more to the purpose, be 
hold the abode of youth and beauty, — behold, at length, ol 
prince, the abode of your long sought princess." 

The prince looked in the direction indicated by the parrel 
and beheld, in a dehghtful green meadow on the banks of th; 
Tagus, a sta,tely palace rising from amidst the bowers of 
delicious garden. It was just such a place as had been d(i 
scribed by the dove as the residence of the original of the pi( 
ture. He gazed at it with a throbbing heart: "Perhaps o 
this moment," thought he, "the beautiful princess is sportin 
beneath those shadj" bowers, or pacing with delicate stop tiios 
stately terraces, or reposing beneath those lofty roofs !" As h | 
looked more narrowly, he perceived that the walls of the gaj> 
den were of great height, so as to defy access, while numbei 
of armed guards patrolled around them. 

The prince turned to the parrot. ' ' Oh most accompHshed ( 
birds," said he, "thou hast the gift of human speech. H; j 
thee to yon garden; seek the idol of my soi:l, and tell her thf 1 
prince Ahmed, a pilgrim of love' and guided by the stars, hs i 
arrived in quest of her on the flowery banks of the Tagus. " ♦ 

The parrot, proud of his embassy, flew away to the garde ( 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL RAM EL. 147 

mounted above its lofty walls, and, after soaring for a time 
over the lawns and groves, alighted on the balcony of a 
pavilion that overhung the river. Here, looking in at the 
casement, he beheld the princess reclining on a couch, with her 
j eyes fixed on a paper, while tears gently stole after each other 
down her j^allid cheek. 

\ Pluming his wings for a moment, adjusting his bright green 
I coat, and elevating his topknot, the parrot perched himself 
beside her with a gallant air ; then assuming a tenderness of 
tone,— 

) ''Dry thy tears, most beautiful of princesses," said he, "I 
[come to bring solace to thy heart." 

The princess was startled on hearing a voice, but turning 
and seeing nothing but a httle green-coated bird bobbing and 
bowing before her:— "Alas! what solace canst thou yield," 
3aid she, " seeing thou art but a parrot?" 

I The parrot was nettled at the question. " I have consoled 
Gaany beautiful ladies in my time," said he; "but let that pass. 
4t present, I come ambassador from a royal prince. Know 
;liat Ahmed, the prince of Granada, has arrived in quest of 
ihee, and is encamped even now on the flowery banks of the 
fagus. " 

The eyes of the beautiful princess sparkled at these words, 
•veil brighter than the diamonds in her coronet. " O sweetest 
>f parrots," cried she, "joyful indeed are thy tidings; for I 
vas faint, and weary, and sick ahnost unto death, wiUi doubt 
I 'f the constancy of Ahmed. Hie thee back, and tell him that 
he words of his letter are engraven in my heart, and his 
foetry has been the food of my soul. Tell him, however, that 
le must prepare to prove his love by force of arms ; to-morrow 
^ my seventeenth birth-day, when the king, my father, holds 

great tournament ; several princes are to enter the hsts, and 
ly hand is to be the prize of the victor." 

The parrot again took wing, and, rustling through the groves, 
^cw back to where the prince awaited his return. The rapture 
f Ahmed on finding the original of his adored portrait, and 
nding her kind and true, can only be conceived by those 
ivoured mortals, who have had the good fortune to realize day 
k-eams, and turn shadows into substance. Still there was one 
^ing that alloyed his transport, —this impondmg tournament. 
ii fact, the banks of the Tagus were already glittering with 
|.;ms, and resounding Avith tmmpets of the various knights, 
|iho with proud retinues were prancing on towards Toledo to 

L 



J48 THE ALHAMBRA. 

attend the ceremonial. The same star that had controlled the 
destiny of the prince, had governed thai of the princess, and 
until her seventeenth birth-day. she had been shut up from 
the world, to guard her from the tender passion. The fame of 
her charms, however, had been enhanced, rather than obscured 
by this seclusion. Several powerfid princes had contended for 
her alliance, and her father, who was a kmg of wondrous 
shrewdness, to avoid making enemies by showing partiality, 
had referred them to the arbitrament of arms. Among the 
rival candidates, were several renowned for strength and 
prowess. What a predicament for the unfortunate Ahmed, 
unprovided as he was with weapons, and unskilled in the exer- 
cises of chivalry. "Luckless prince that I am!" said he, "to 
have been brought up in seclusion, under the eye of a philoso- 
pher! of what avail are algebra and philosophy in affairs of 
love ! alas. Ebon Bonabbon, why hast thou neglected to instruct 
me in the management of arms?" Upon this the owl broke 
silence prefacing his harangue with a pious ejaculation, for he 
was a devout Mussulman : 

"Allah Achbar! 'God is great,'" exclaimed he, "in his 
hands are all secret things, he alone governs the destiny of 
princes ! Know, prince, that this land is full of mysteries, 
liidden from all but those who, like myself, can grope after 
knowledge in the dark. Know that in the neighbouring moun- 
tains there is a cave, and in that cave there is an iron table, 
and on that table lies a suit of magic armour, and beside that 
table stands a spell-bound st oed, which have been shut up there 
for many generations." 

The prince stared with wonder, while the owl blinking his 
huge round eyes and erecting his horns proceeded : 

"Many years since, I accompanied my father to these parts 
on a tour of his estates, and we sojourned in that cave, and 
thus became I acquainted with the mystery. It is a tradition i 
in our family, which I have heard from my grandfather whcni 
X was yet but a very little owlet, that this armour belonged to < 
a Moorish magician, who took refuge in this cavern when 
Toledo was captured by the Christians, and died here, leaving '* 
his steed and weapons under a mystic spell, never to be used 
but by a Moslem, and by him only from sunrise to mid-day. 



h 



'ii 



opponent. " jj;^ 

"Enough, let us seek this cave," exclaimed Ahmed. !'^' 

Guided by his legendary Mentor, the prince found the ''5 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 149 

cavern, which was in one of the wildest recesses of those rocky 
chtf s which rose around Toledo ; none but the mousing eye of 
an owl or an antiquary could have discovered the entrance to 
it. A sepulchr.al lamp of everlasting oil shed a solenm li^lit 
through the place. On an iron table in the centre of the 
cavern lay the magic armour, against it leaned the lance, and 
beside it stood an Arabian steed, caparisoned for the field, but 
motionless as a statue. The armour was bright and unsullied, 
as it had gleamed in days of old ; the steed in as good con- 
dition as if just from the pasture, and when Ahmed laid his 
hand upon his neck, he pawed the ground and gave a loud 
neigh of joy that shook the walls of the cavern. Thus pro- 
vided with horse to ride and weapon to wear, the prince dc 
termined to defy the field at the impending tourney. 

The eventful morning arrived. The hsts for the combat 
were prepared in the Vega or plain just below the cliff -built 
walls of Toledo. Here were erected stages and galleries for 
the spectators, covered with rich tapestry and sheltered from 
the sun by silken awnings. All the beauties of the land were 
assembled in those galleries, while below pranced plumed 
knights with their pages and esquires, among whom figured 
bonspicuously the princes who were to contend in the tourney. 
All the beauties of the land, however, were eclipsed, when the 
[princess Aldegonda appeared in the royal pavilion, and for 
[the first time broke forth upon the gaze of an admiring world. 
A murmur of w^onder ran through the crowd at her transcend- 
tot loveliness ; and the princes who were candidates for her 
iand merely on the faith of her reported charms, now felt ten- 
k'old ardour for the conflict. 

The princess, however, had a troubled look. The colour 
same and went from her cheek, and her eye wandered with a 
'estless and unsatisfied expression over the plumed throng of 
mights. The trumpets were about sounding for the encounter 
vhen a herald announced the arrival of a stranger knight, and 
JJimed rode into the field. A steeled helmet studded with 
^ems rose above his turban; his cuirass was embossed with 
;old ; his scimitar and dagger were of the workmanship of 
Pay, and flamed with precious stones. A round shield was at 
lis shoulder, and in his hand he bore the lance of charmed 
•ii*tue. The caparison of his Arabian was richly embroidered, 

fid swept the ground; and the proud animal pranced and 
uffed the air, and neighed with joy at once more bcliolding 



150 THE ALHAMBRA, 

X^rince struck every eye, and when his appellation was an- 
nounced, " The pilgrim of love," a universal flutter and agita- 
tion prevailed amongst the fair dames in the galleries. 

When Ahmed presented himself at the lists, however, they 
were closed against him ; none hut princes, he was told, were 
admitted to the contest. He declared his name and rank. Still 
worse, he was a Moslem, and could not engage in a tourney 
where the hand of a Christian princess was the prize. 

The rival princes surrounded him with haughty and men- 
acing aspects, and one of insolent demeanour and Herculean 
frame sneered at his hght and youthful form, and scoffed at 
his amorous appellation. The ire of the prince was roused ; he 
defied his rival to the encounter. They took distance, wheeled, 
and charged; at the first touch of the magic lance the brawny 
scoffer was tilted from his saddle. Here the prince would have 
paused, but alas ! he had to deal with a demoniac horse and 
armor: once in action, nothing could control them. The 
Arabian steed charged into the thickest of the throng: the 
lance overturned every thing that presented ; the gentle prince 
was carried pell-mell about the field, strewing it with high and 
low, gentle and simple, and grieving at his own involuntary 
exploits. The king stormed and raged at this outrage on his 
subjects and his guests. He ordered out all liis guards— they 
were anhorsed as fast as they came up. ' The king threw off his 
robes, grasped buckler and lance, and rode forth to awe the 
stranger with the presence of majesty itself. Alas, majesty 
fared no better than the vulgar ; the steed and lance were no 
respecters of persons ; to the dismay of Ahmed, he was borne 
full tilt against the king, and in a moment the royal heels were' 
m the air, and the crown was rolling in the dust. 

At this moment the sun reached the meridian; the magici 
spell resumed its power. The Arabian steed scoured across the 
plain, leaped the barrier, plunged into the Tagus, swam its 
raging current, bore the prince, breathless and amazed, to the 
cavern, and resumed his station like a statue beside the iron 
table. The prince dismounted right gladly, and replaced the: 
armor, to abide the further decrees of fate. Then seating him- 
self in the cavern, he ruminated on the desperate state tc 
which this bedeviled steed and armor had reduced him. 
Never should he dare to show his face at Toledo, after inflict- ^ 
ing such disgrace upon its chivalry, and such an outrage on \ 
its king. What, too, would the princess think of so rude and ' 
riotous an achievement! Full of anxiety, he sent forth hisji" 



i'l 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 151 

\vinp:ed messengers to gather tidings. The parrot resorted to 
all the pubhc places and crowded resorts of the city, and 
8' X )n returned with a world of gossip. All Toledo was in con- 
stcraation. The princess had been borne off senseless to the 
palace ; the tournament had ended in confusion ; every one was 
talking of the sudden apparition, prodigious exploits, and 
strange disappearance of the Moslem knight. Some pro- 
nounced him a Moorish magician ; others thought him a demon 
who had assumed a human shape ; wliile others related tradi- 
Itions of enchanted warriors hidden in the caves of the mouri- 
itains, and thought it might be one of these, who had made a 
sudden irruption from his den. All agreed that no mere ordi- 
nary mortal could have wrought such wonders, or unhorsed 
such accomplished and stalwart Clu-istian warriors. 

The owl flew forth at night, and hovered about the dusky 
city, perching on the roofs and chinmeys. He then wheeled 
tils flight up to the royal palace, which stood on the rocky 
summit of Toledo, and went prowling about its terraces and 
[)attlements, eaves-dropping at every cranny, and glaring in 
with liis big goggling ej^es at everj^ window where there was a 
[ight, so as to throw two or three maids of honour into fits. It 
was not until the gray dawn began to peer above the moun- 
iains that he returned from his mousing expedition, and re- 
ated to the prince what he had seen. 

*' As I was prying about one of the loftiest towers of the pal- 
ice," said he, " I beheld through a casement a beautifid prin- 
cess. She was reclining on a couch, with attendants and phy- 
dcians around her, but she would none of their ministry and 
^elief. When they retired, I beheld her draw forth a letter 
Tom her bosom, and read, and kiss it, and give way to loud 
amentations ; at which, philosopher as I am, I could not but 
)e greatly moved." 

The tender heart of Ahmed was distressed at these tidings. 
* Too true were thy words, oh sage Ebon Bonabbon !" cried he. 
' Care and sorrow, and sleepless nights are the lot of lovers, 
yiah preserve the princess from the blighting influence of this 
ihing called love." 

Further mtelhgence from Toledo corroborated the report of 

I he owl. The city was a prey to uneasiness and alarm. The 
jrincess was convej^ed to the highest tower of the palace, every 
Lvenue to which was strongly guarded. In the mean time, a 
levouring melancholy had seized upon her, of which no one 



152 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

ear to every consolation. The most skilful physicians had es- 
sayed their art in vain ; it was thought some magic spell had 
been practised upon her, and the king made proclamation, de- 
claring that whoever should effect her cure, should receive the 
richest jewel in the royal treasury. 

When the owl, who was dozing in a corner, heard of this 
proclamation, he rolled his lar^e eyes and looked more mys- ; 
terious than ever. 

"Allah Achbar!" exclaimed he. "Happy the man that! 
shall effect that cure, should he but know what to choose from) 
the royal treasury." ;i 

" What mean you, most reverend owl?" said Ahmed. ^ 

" Hearken, prince, to what I shall relate. We owls, you; 
must know, are a learned body, and much given to dark and 1 
dusty research. During my late prowling at night about the 
domes and turrets of Toledo, I discovered a college of antiqua- 
rian owls, who hold their meetings in a great vaulted tower 
where the royal treasure is deposited. Here they were discuss- 
ing the forms and inscriptions, and designs of ancient gems and 
jewels, and of golden and silver vessels, heaped up in the trea- 
sury, the fashion of every country and age : but mostly they 
were interested about certain reliques and talismans, that have 
remained in the treasury since the time of Roderick the Goth. 
Among these, was a box of shittim wood, secured by bands of 
steel of oriental workmanship, and inscribed with mystic 
characters known only to the learned few. This box and its 
inscription had occupied the college for several sessions, and 
had caused much long and grave dispute. At the time of my 
visit, a very ancient owl, who had recently arrived from Egyi^t, 
was seated on the lid of the box lecturing upon the inscription, • 
and proved from it, that the coffer contained the silken carpet 
of the throne of Solomon the wise : which doubtless had been 
brought to Toledo by the Jews, who took refuge there after the 
downfall of Jerusalem. " 

When the owl had concluded his antiquarian harangue, the ; 
prince remained for a time absorbed in thought. "I have 
heard," said he, "from the sage Ebon Bonabbon, of the won- 
derful properties of that talisman, v/hich disappeared at the 
fall of Jerusalem, and was supposed to be lost to mankind. 
Doubtless it remains a sealed mystery to the Christians ol 
Toledo. If I can get possession of that carpet, my fortune is 
secure." 

The next day the prince laid aside his rich attire, and a^ 



L KG END OF PRINCK AIlMh'I) AL KAMFJ.. 1^3 

rayed himself in the simple garb of an Arab of the desert. Ho 
dyed his complexion to a tawny hue, and no one could have 
recognized in him the splendid warrior who had caused such 
admiration and dismay at the tournament. With staff in 
I hand and scrip by his side, and a small pastoral reed, he re- 
1 paired to Toledo, and presenting himself at the gate of the 

• royal palace, announced himself as a candidate for the reward 
i offered for the cure of the princess, The guards would have 
' driven him away with blows : ' ' What can a vagrant Arab like 
i thyself pretend to do," said they, '"in a case where the most 

learned of the land have failed?" The king, however, over- 
heard tiie tumult, and ordered the Arab to be brought into his 
presence. 

"Most potent king," said Ahmed, "you behold before you a 
IJedouin Arab, the gi^eater part of whose life has been passed 
in the solitudes of the desert. Those solitudes, it is well 
known, are the haunts of demons and evil spirits, who beset 
us poor shei)herds in our lonely watchings, enter into and pos- 
sess our flocks and herds, and sometimes render even the 
patient camel furious. Against these, our countercharm is 
music ; and we have legendary airs handed down from genera- 
tion to generation, that we chant and pipe to cast forth these 
evil spirits. I am of a gifted line, and possess this power in its 
fullest force. If it be any evil influence of the kind that holds 
a spell over thy daughter, I i)ledge my head to free her from 
its sway." 

The king, who was a man of understanding, and knew the 
wonderful secrets possessed by the Arabs, was inspired with 
hope by the confident language of the prince. He conducted 
him inmiediately to the lofty tower secured by several doors, 
in the summit of which was the chamber of the princess. The 
windows opened upon a terrace with balustrades, commanding 
i a view over Toledo and all the surrounding country. The win- 
1 dows were darkened, for the princess lay within, a prey to a 
■ devouring grief that refused all alleviation. 
I The prince seated himself on the terrace, and perfoi-med sev- 
' 3ral wild Arabian airs on his pastoral pipe, which he had learnt 
I from his attendants in the Generaliffe at Granada. The prin- 
cess continued insensible, and the doctors, who were present, 

• shook their heads, and smiled Avith incredibility and contempt. 
! At lengtli the prince laid aside the reed, and to a simple melody 
t chanted the amatory verses of the letter which had declared 
) tiis passion. 



154 THE ALI1AMBRA. 

The princess recognized the strain. A fluttering joy stole to | 
ner heart ; she raised her head and hstened ; tears rushed to 
her eyes and streamed down her cheeks ; her bosom rose and 
fell with a tumult of emotions. She would have asked for the 
minstrel to be brought into her presence, but maiden coyness 
held her silent. The king read her wishes, and at his com- 
mand Ahmed was conducted into the chamber. The lovers 
were discreet : they but exchanged glances, yet those glances 
spoke volumes. Never was trimnph of music more complete. 
The rose had returned to the soft cheek of the princess, the 
freshness to her lip, and the dewy light to her languisliing eye. 

All the physicians present stared at each other with aston- 
ishment. The king regarded the Arab minstrel with admira- 
tion, mixt with awe. "Wonderful youth," exclaimed he, 
"thou shalt henceforth be the first physician of my court,r 
and no other prescription will I take but thy melody. For the i 
present, receive thy reward, the most precious jewel in my! 
treasury." \ 

"O king," rephed Alimed, " I care not for silver, or gold, oij 
pr9cious stones. One relique hast thou in thy treasury, handed 
down from the Moslems who once owned Toledo. A box ol 
sandal Avood containing a silken carpet. Give me that box, ; 
and I am content. " ■ 

All present were surprised at the moderation of the Arab ;| 
and still more, when the box of sandal wood was brought and , 
the carpet drawn forth. It was of fine green silk, covered 
with Hebrew and Chaldaic characters. The court physicians i 
looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and smiled at ' 
the sunplicity of this new practitioner, who could be content; 
with so paltry a fee. 

"This carpet," said the prince, "once covered the throne of 
Solomon the wise ; it is worthy of being placed beneath the feet 
of beauty. " ^ 

So saying, he spread it on the terrace beneath an ottoman 
that had been brought forth for the princess; then seating 
himself at her feet, — 

"Who," said he, "shall counteract what is written in the 
book of fate? Behold the prediction of the astrologers verified. 
Know, oh king, that your daughter and I have long loved each 
other in secret. Behold in me the pilgrim of love." 

These words were scarcely from his lips, when the carpet 
rose in the air, bearing off the prince and princess. The king 
and the physicians gazed after it v/ith open mouths and strain 



JJiuhJM) OF PlUyCK MIMED AL KAMKL. ^r^r^ 

in?: oycs, until it became a little speck on the white bosom of a 
jcloud, and then disappeared in the blue vault of heaven. 

Tho king in a rage summoned his treasurer. " How is this," 
isaid he, "that thou hast suffered an inlidel to get possession of 
•such a talisman?" 

"Alas! sire, we knew not its nature, nor could we decipher 
bhe insci'iption of the box. If it be indeed the carpet of the 
i:hrone of the wise Solomon, it is possessed of magic power, 
md can transport its owner from place to place througli the 
,^r." 

The king assembled a mighty army, and set off for Granada 
in pui-suit of the fugitives. His march was long and toilsome. 
Sncamjnng in the Vega, he sent a herald to demand restitu- 
tion of his daughter. The king himself came forth with all 
|!iis court to meet him. In the king, he beheld the Arab niin 
|t;trel, for Ahmed had succeeded to the throne on tlie death of 
lis father, and the beautiful Aldegonda was his Sultana. 

The Christian king was easily pacified, when he found that 
lis daughter was suffered to continue in her faith : not that he 
viis particularly pious ; but religion is always a point of pride 
lud etiquette with princes. Instead of bloody battles, there 
ras a succession of feasts and rejoicings; after which, the king 
eturned v>^ell pleased to Toledo, and the youthful couple con- 
I inued to reign as happily as Avisely, in the Alhambra. 
^ It is proper to add, that the owl and the j^arrot had severally 
ollowed the prince by easy stages to Granada: the former 
1 ravelling by night, and stopping at the various hereditary 
'Ossessions of his family ; the latter figuring in the gay circles 
!f every town and city on his route. 

I Ahmed gratefully requited the services which they had ren- 
ered him on his pilgrimage. He appointed the owd his prime 
linister ; the parrot his master of ceremonies. It is needless 
y say that never was a realm more sagely administered, or a 
i ourt conducted with more exact punctilio. 



156 THE ALUAMBRA. 



THE LEGEND OF THE EOSE OF THE ALHAMBRA: 



THE PAGE AND THE GER-FALCON. 

For some time after the surrender of Granada by the Moon 
that dehghtful city was a frequent and favourite residence 
the Spanish sovereigns, until they were frightened away I3I 
successive shocks of earthquakes, which toppled down varioi 
houses and made the old Moslem towers rock to their found) 
tion. 

Many, many years then rolled aAvay, during which Granad / 
was rarely honoured by a royal guest. The palaces of tt 
nobility remained silent and shut up ; and the Alhambra, lil^ 
a slighted beauty, sat in mournful desolation among he 
neglected gardens. The tower of the Infantas, once the res 
dence of the three beautiful Moorish princesses, partook of tli 
general desolation ; and the spider spun her web athwart th 
gilded vault, and bats and owls nestled in those chambers ih.z 
had been graced by the presence of Zayda, Zorayda, and Zok 
hay da. The neglect of the tower may partly have been owin 
to some superstitious notions of the neighbours. It w£ 
rumoured that the spirit of the youthful Zorahayda, who ha 
perished in that tower, was often seen by moonlight, seate 
beside the fountain in the hall, or moaning about the battl( 
ments, and that the notes of her silver lute would be heard 2 , 
midnight by wayfarers passing along the glen. I 

At length the city of Granada was once more enlivened b i^ 
the royal presence. All the world knows that Philip V. wff 
the first Bourbon that swayed the Spanish sceptre. All th, 
world knows that he married, in second nuptials, Elizabetta c 
Isabella, (for they are the same,) the beautiful princess of Pai 
ma; and all the world knows, that by this chain of continger 
cies, a French prince and an Italian princess were seated t( 
gether on the Spanish throne. For the reception of this illustr 
ous pair, the Alhambra was repaired and fitted up with all pot 
sible expedition. The arrival of the court changed the whol 
aspect of the lately deserted place. The clangour of drum am 
trumpet, the tramp of steed about the avenues and oute 



TIIK LKGI-M) OF THE liO.SE OF THE ALllAMBtiA. 157 

court, the glitter of arms and display of banners about ])arbi- 
ean and battlement, recalled the ancient and warlike glories of 
the fortress. A softer spii-it, however, reigned within the royal 
palace. There was the rustling of robes, and tlie cautious 
iread and murmuring voice of reverential courtiers about the 
mtechambers ; a loitering of pages and maids of lionour about 
;he gardens, and the sound of music stealing from open case- 
ments. 

Among those who attended in the train of the monarchs, was 
I favourite page of the queen, named Ruyz de Alarcon. To 
^ay that he was a favourite page of the queen, was at once to 
^prak his eulogium, for everyone in the suite of the stately 
Klizabctta was chosen for grace, and beauty, and accomplish- 
luiits. He was just turned of eighteen, light and little of 
urin, and graceful as a young Antinous. To the queen he was 
lU deference and respect, yet he was at heart a roguish strip- 
in,i;\ petted and spoiled by the ladies about the court, and 
)x|)erienced in the ways of women far beyond his years. 

This loitering page was one morning rambling about the 
povcs of the Generaliffe, which overlook the grounds of the 
\lhambra. He had taken with him for his amusement, a 
"uAiiurite ger-falcon of the queen. In the course of his rambles, 
;<'(^iiig a bird rising from a thicket, he unhooded the haAvk and 
(^L him fly. The falcon towered high in the air, made a swoop 
it Ills quarry, but missing it, soared away regardless of the calls 
)f the page. The latter followed the truant bird with his eye 
n its capricious flight, until he saw it alight upon the battle- 
lients of a remote and lonely tower, in the outer wall of the 
Uhambra, built on the e^^e of a ravine that separated the 
•oyal fortress from the grounds of the Generahffe. It was, in 
I act, the " tower of the Princesses." 

:■ The page descended into the ravine, and approached the 
i iower, but it had no entrance from the glen, and its lofty height 
I -endered any attempt to scale it fruitless. Seeking one of the 
cates of the fortress, therefore, he made a wide circuit to that 
ide of the tower facing Avithin the walls. A small garden en- 
;losed by a trellis-work of reeds overhung with myrtle lay be Coro 
he tower. Opening a wicket, the page passed between beds of 
lowers and thickets of roses to the door. It was closed and 
molted. A crevice in the door gave hiin a peep into the interior. 
There was a small Moorish hall with fretted walls, light mar' 
We columns, and an alabaster fountain surrounded with flow 
^rs. In the centre hung a gilt cage containing a singing bird- 



158 THE ALIIAMBRA. 



beneath it, on a chair, lay a tortoise-shell cat among reels ol 
silk and other articles of female labour, and a guitar, decorated ( 
with ribands, leaned against the fountain. / 

Kuyz de Alarcon was struck with these traces of female 1 
taste and elegance in a lonely, and, as he had supposed, 
deserted tower. They reminded him of the tales of enchanted 
halls, current in the Alhambra; and the tortoise-shell cat 
might be some spell-bound princess. 

He knocked gently at the door, — a beautiful face peeped out 
from a little wmdow above, but was instantly withdrawn. lie w 
waited, expecting that the door would be opened; but ho ( 
waited in vain: no footstep was to be heard within, all was;( 
silent. Had his senses deceived hun, or was this beautiful ap' ,j 
parition the fairy of the tower? He knocked again, and more 
loudly. After a little while, the beaming face once more 
peeped forth : it was that of a blooming damsel of fifteen. " ; 

The page immediately doffed his plumed bonnet, and' 
entreated in the most courteous accents to be permitted to| 
ascend the tower in pursuit of his falcon. 

" I dare not open the door, Seiior," replied the little damsel, 
blushing; " my aunt has forbidden it." 

"I do beseech you, fair maid; it is the favourite falcon of >i 
the queen; I dare not return to the palace without it." 

"Are you, then, one of the cavaliers of the court?" 

" I am, fair maid; but I shall lose the queen's favour and my 
place if I lose this hawk." 

"Santa Maria! It is against you cavaliers of the court that'' 
my aunt has charged me especially to bar the door." j.: 

" Against wicked cavaliers, doubtless; but I am none of I 
those, but a simple, harmless page, who will be ruined andi 
undone if you deny me this small request." I 

The heart of the little damsel was touched by the distress of 
the page. It was a thousand pities he should be ruined for the 
want of so trifling a boon. Surely, too, he could not be one of I 
those dangerous beings whom her aunt had described as a spe- 
cies of cannibal, ever on the prowl to make prey of thought- 
less damsels ; he was gentle and modest, and stood so entreat- 
ingly ^^^th cap in hand, and looked so charming. The slj' page 
saw that the garrison began to waver, and redoubled his 
entreaties in such moving terms, that it was not in the nature 
of mortal maiden to deny him ; so, the blushing little warder 
of the tower descended and opened the door with a trembling 
hand ; and if the page had been charmed by a mere glimpse of 



i 



THE LEGEM) OF THE ROSE OF THE AIJIAMBRA. lo9 

her countenance from the window, he was ravished by the 
EuU-length portrait now revealed to him. 

Her Andalusian bodice and trim basquina set off the round 
but delicate symmetry of her form, which was as yet scarce 
verginc: into womanhood. Her glossy hair was parted on her 
orehcad with sciaipulous exactnee^s, and decorated with a 
fresh plucked rose, according to the universal custom of the 
country. 

It is true, her complexion was tinged by the ardour of a 
jouthern sijn, but it served to give richness to the mantling 
oloom of her cheek, and to heighten the lustre of her melting 
?yes. 

Euyz de Alarcon beheld all this with a single glance, for it 
[Kjcame him not to tarry ; he merelj^ murmured his acknow- 
ledgments, and then boimded lightly up the spiral staircase in 
luest of his falcon. He soon returned with the truant bird 
ipon his fist. The damsel, in the mean time, had seated her- 
lelf by the fountain in the hall, and was winding silk ; but in 
her agitation she let fall the reel upon the pavement. The 
page sprang, picked it up, then dropping gracefully on one 
cnee, presented it to her, but, seizing the hand extended to 
receive it, imprinted on it a kiss more fervent and devout 
|han he had ever imprinted on the fair hand of his sovereign. 

"Ave Maria! Senor!'' exclaimed the damsel, blushing still 
jleeper with confusion and surprise, for never before had she 
•eceive such a salutation. 

The modest page made a thousand apologies, assuring her it 
vas the way, at court, of expressing the most profound hom- 
ige and respect. 

Her anger, if anger she felt, was easily pacified; but her 
Lgitation and embarrassment continued, and she sat blushing 
iecper and deeper, with her eyes cast down upon her work, 
ptangling the silk Avhich she attempted to wind. 
I The cimning page saw the confusion in the opposite camp, 
tnd would fain have profited by it, but the fine speeches he 
yould have uttered died upon his lips ; his attempts at gal- 
lantry were awkward and ineffectual: and, to liis surprise, the 
vdroit page who had figured with such grace and effrontery 
imong the most knowing and experienced ladies of the coin-t, 
ound himself awed and abashed in the presence of a simple 
tlamsel of fifteen. 

! In fact, the artless maiden, in her own modesty and inno- 
jence, had guardians more effectual than the bolts and bars 



160 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

prescribed by her vigilant aunt. Still, where is the female 
bosom proof against the first whisperings of love? The little 
damsel, with all her artlessness, instinctively comi)rehended all 
that the faltering tongue of the page failed to express, and her 
heart was fluttered at beholding, for the first time, a lover at 
her feet— and such a lover ! 

The diffidence of the page, though genuine, was short-lived, i, 
and he was recovering his usual ease and confidence, when a :'j 
shrill voice was he&rd at a distance. i 

"My aunt is returning from massl" cried the damsel in | 
affright. "I pray you, Seiior, depart." 

' ' Not until you grant me that rose from your hair as a re- 
membrance." 

She hastily untwisted the rose from her raven locks. " Take 
it," cried she, agitated and blusiiing, "but pray begone." 

The page took the rose, and at the same time covered with ,; 
kisses the fair hand that gave it. Then placing the flower in ij 
his bonnet, and taking the falcon upon his fist, he bounded off i 
through the garden, bearing away with Mm the heai't of the ; 
gentle Jacinta. 

When the vigilant aunt arrived at the tower, she remarked 
the agitation of her niece, and an air of confusion in the hall; 
but a word of explanation sufficed. "A ger-falcon had pur- 
sued his prey into the hall," 

" Mercy on us! To think of a falcon flying into the tower. ] 
Did ever one hear of so saucy a hawk? Why, the very bird in i 
the cage is not safe." 

The vigilant Fredegonda was one of the most wary of 
ancient spinsters. She had a becoming terror and distrust of ' 
what she denominated "the opposite sex," which had gradu-i, 
ally increased through along life of celibacy. Not that theij 
good lady had ever suffered from their wiles ; nature having 
set up a safeguard in her face, that forbade all trespass upon!| 
her premises ; but ladies who have least cause to fear for them- \. 
selves, are most ready to keep a watch over their more tempt- I 
ing neighbours. The niece was the orphan of an officer who ,| 
had faUen in the wars. She had been educated in a convent, !' 
and had recently been transferred from her sacred asylum to ! 
the immediate guardianship of her aunt ; under whose over- ;' 
shadowing care she vegetated in obscurity, like an opening 
rose blooming beneath a briar. Nor, indeed, is this comparison 
entirely accidental, for to tell the truth her fresh and dawning , 
beauty had ca-ught the public eye, even in her seclusion, and, ' 



TUE LEGEJSD OF THE ROSE OF THE ALIIAMBRA. Id 

*rith that poetical turn common to the people of Andaliisi-i 
the peasantry of the neighbourhood had given her the apneUa- 
bion of " Tlie Rose of the Alhambra." 

The wary aunt continued to keep a faithful watch over her 
iemptmg little niece as long as the court continued at Granada 
md flattered herself that her vigilance had been successful It 
^ true, the good lady was now and then discomposed by the 
mklmg of guitars, and chanting of love ditties from the moon- 
it groves beneath the tower, but she would exhort her niece 

shut her ears against such idle minstrelsy, assuring her 
hat It was one of the arts of the opposite sex, by which simple 
oaids were often lured to their undoing ;-aIas, what chance 
«nth a smaple maid has a dry lecture against a moonlight 
erenade ! 

At length king PhHip cut short his sojourn at Granada, and 
uddenly departed with, all his train. The vigilant Fredegondu 
P'atched the royal pageant as it issued forth from the gate of 
ustice, and descended the great avenue leading to the city 
VTien the la^t banner disappeared from her sight she re- 
Lirned exulting to her tower, for aU her cares were over To 
er surprise, a light Ai-abian steed pawed the ground at the 
ncket gate of the garden-to her horror she saw through the 
uckets of roses, a youth, in gaily embroidered dress, at the 
3et of her niece. At the sound of her footsteps he gave a 
mder adieu, bounded lightly over the barrier of reeds and 
lyrtles, sprang upon his horse, and was out of sight in an in- 
lant. 

The tender Jacinta in the agony of her grief lost all thought 

1 her aunt's displeasure. Throwing herself into her arms she 
poke forth into sobs and tears. ' 

"Ay di mi!" cried she, "he is gone! he is gone! and I shaU 

3ver see him more." 

*|Gone! who is gone? what youth is this I saw at your feet?" 

^ A queen's page, aunt, who came to bid me farewell " 

/A queen's page, cluld," echoed the vigilant Fredegonda 

intly, and when did you become acquainted with a queen's 

ige? 

The morning that the ger-falcon flew into the tower. It 
^\ the queen's ger-falcon, and he came in pui-suit of it " 

Ah siUy, silly girl! know that there are no ger-falcons 
Ut so dangerous as these prankhng pages, and it is precisely 
uch simple birds as thee that they pounce upon. " 
The aunt was at first indignant at learning that, in despite 



163 THE ALHAMBRA, 

of her boasted vigilance, a tender intercourse had been can-ied 
on by the youthful lovers, almost beneath her eye; but whei 
she found that her simple-hearted niece, though thus exposed 
without the protection of bolt or bar, to all the machinations 
of the opposite sex, had come forth unsinged from the fierj 
ordeal, she consoled herself with the persuasion that it waf 
owing to the chaste and cautious maxims in which she had, ai 
it were, steeped her to the very lips. 

While the aunt laid this soothing unction to her pride, th( 
niece treasured up the oft-repeated vows of fidelity of the page^ 
But what is the love of restless, roving man? a vagrant stream 
that dallies for a time with each flower upon its banks, thei 
passes on and leaves them all in tears. 

Days, weeks, months elapsed, and nothing more was hear< 
of the page. The i)omegranate ripened, the vine yielded up it 
fruit, the autumnal rams descended in torrents from th 
mountains ; the Sierra Nevada became covered with a snow ■ 
mantle, and wintry blasts howled through the halls of the A] 
hambra : still he came not. The winter passed away. Agai] 
the genial spring burst forth with song, and blossoms, an* 
balmy zephyr; the snows melted from the mountains, untj 
none remained, but on the lofty summit of the Nevada, glister 
ing through the sultry summer air : still nothing was heard o j 
the forgetful page. 

In the mean time, the poor little Jacinta grew pale an i 
thoughtful. Her former occupations and amusements wer;; 
abandoned; her silk lay entangled, her guitar unstrung, heiii 
flowers were neglected, the notes of her bird imlieeded, an|( 
her eyes, once so bright, were dimmed with secret weepin^ji 
If any sohtude could be devised to foster the passion of a lov( jti 
lorn damsel, it would be such a place as the Alhambra, whei j 
every thing seems disposed to produce tender and romanti 
reveries. It is a very Paradise for lovers ; how hard then to I 
alone in such a Paradise; and not merely alone, but fo: 
saken. 

*' Alas, siUy child!" would the staid and immaculate Fred- 
gonda say, when she found her niece in one of her despondir ] 
moods, "did I not warn thee against the wiles and deceptioiA 
of these men? What couldst thou expect, too, from one of % 
haughty and aspiring family, thou, an orphan, the descendai 
of a fallen and impoverished line; be assured, if the yout 
were true, Ms father, who is one of the proudest nobles aboi 
the court, would prohibit his imion with one so hiunble aCiiij 



I THE LEGEND OF THE ROSE OP THE ALHAMBIiA Ifj;^ 

Iportionless as thou. Pluck up thy resokition, therefore and 
drive these idle notions from thy mind." ' 

The words of tlie immaculate Fredegonda only served to in- 
crease the melancholy of her niece, but she sought to indulge 
it m private. At a late hour one midsummer night, after her 
aunt had retired to rest, she remained alone in the hall of the 
;ower. seated beside the alabaster fountain. It was here that 
,he faitliless page had first knelt and kissed her hand it was 
^ere that he had often vowed eternal fidelity. The poor little 
lamsel's heart was overladen with sad and tender recollections 
ler tears began to flow, and slowly fell, drop by drop, into the 
ountam. By degrees the crystal water became agitated and 
•ubble-bubble— bubble, boiled up, and was tossed about until 
, female figure, richly clad in Moorish robes, slowly rose to 
lew. 

Jacinta was so frightened, that she fled from the hall and 
id not venture to return. The next morning, she related 
^hat she had seen to her aunt, but the good lady treated it as 
fantasy of her troubled mind, or supposed she had fallen 
sleep and dreamt beside the fountain. "Thou hast been 
linking of the story of the three Moorish princesses that once 
ihabited the tower," continued she, "and it has entered into 
ij dreams. " 

* ' What story, aunt ? I know nothing of it. " 
"Thou hast certainly heard of the three princesses, Zayda, 
t)rayda, and Zorahayda, who were confined in this tower by 
le king their father, and agreed to fly with three Christian 
.yahers. The first two accompHshed their escape, but the 
ird failed in resolution and remained, and it is said died in 
is tower." 

"I now recollect to have heard of it," said Jacinta, "and to 
,ye wept over the fate of the gentle Zorahayda." 
"Thou mayst well weep over her fate," continued the aurt, 
;or the lover of Zorahayda was thy ancestor. He long be- 
)aned his Moorish love, but time cured him of his grief, and 
married a Spanish lady, from whom thou art descended." 
Tacinta ruminated upon these words. "That what I have 
m is no fantasy cf the brain, "said she to herself, "I am con- 
ent. If indeed it be the sprite of the gentle Zorahayda, 
ach I have heard lingers about this tower, of what should I 
afraid? I'll watch by the fountain to-night, perhaps the 
it will be repeated." 
• owards midnight, when every thing was quiet, she agaii 



164 THE ALHAMBRA. 

took her seat in the hall. As the bell on the distant watch- 
tower of the Alhambra struck the midnight hour, the fountain 
was again agitated, and bubble — bubble— bubble, it tossed 
about the waters until the Moorish female again rose to view. 
She Avas young and bea^utiful ; her dress was rich with jewels, 
and in her hand she held a silver lute. Jacinta trembled and- 
was faint, but was reassured by the soft and plaintive voice 
of the apparition, and the sweet expression of her pale melan- 
choly countenance. 

"Daughter of Mortality," said she, " what aileth thee? Whj; 
do thy tears trouble my fountain, and thy sighs and plamts 
disturb the quiet watches of the night?" 

" I weep because of the faitlilessness of man; and I bemoar 
my solitary and forsaken state. " 

' ' Take comfort, thy sorrows may yet have an end. Thov 
beholdest a Moorish princess, who, like thee, was unhappy ir 
her love. A Christian knight, thy ancestor, won my heart 
and woidd have borne me to his native land, and to the boson 
of his church. I was a convert in my heart, but I lacked cour i 
age equal to my faith, and lingered till too late. For this, th( .' 
evil genii are permitted to have power over me, and I remaii j 
enchanted in this tower, until some pure Christian will deigi 
to break the magic spell. Wilt thou undertake the task?" | 

" I will!" replied the damsel, trembling. 

" Come hither, then, and fear not: dip thy hand in the foun | 
tain, sprinlde the water over me, and baptize me after th 
manner of thy faith; so shall the enchantment be dispelled, 
and my troubled spirit have repose." 

The damsel advanced with faltering steps, dipped her haii<i| 
in the fountain, collected water in the palm, and sprinkled ii 
over the pale face of the phantom. 

The latter smiled with ineffable benignity. She dropped he 
silver lute at the feet of Jacinta, crossed her white arms upo 
her bosom, and melted from sight, so that it seemed merely a ; 
if a shower of dewdrops had fallen into the fountain. 

Jacinta retired from the hall, filled with awe and wondei 
She scarcely closed her eyes that night, but when she awot 
at daybreak out of a troubled slumber, the whole appeared 1 
her like a distempered dream. On descending into the ha3 
however, the truth of the vision was established; for, besid 
the fountain she beheld the silver lute glittering in the mori 
ing sunshine. 

She hastened to her aunt, related all that had befallen he 



TUE LEGEND OF THE liOSt: OF TllK ALllAAIDUA. 163 

and called her to behold the lute as a testimonial of the reality 
of her story. If the good lady had any lingering doubts, they 
were i-emovcd when Jacinta touched the instrument, for slie 
drew forth such ravishing tones as to thaw even the frigid 
bosom of the immaculate Frede^onda, that region of eternal 
winter, into a genial flow. Nothing but supernatural melody 
could have produced such an effect. 

j The extraordinary power of the lute became every day more 
md more apparent. The wayfarer passing by the tower was 
detained, and, as it were, spell-bound, in breathless ecstasy. 
Ilie very birds gathered in the neighbouring trees, and, hush- 
irig their own strains, hstoned in charmed silence. Rumour 
30on spread the news abroad. The inhabitants of Granada 
thronged to the Alhambra, to catch a few notes of the 
ranscendent music tliat floated about the tower of Las In- 
liantas. 

The lovely Httle minstrel was at length drawn forth from 

ber retreat. The rich and powerful of the land contended who 

^hould entertain and do honour to her; or rather, who should 

secure the charms of her lute, to draw fashionable throngs to 

their saloons. Wherever she went, her vigilant aunt kept a 

Iragon- watch at her elbow, awing the throngs of impassioned 

Ldmirers who hung in raptures on her strains. The report 

\t her wonderful powers spread fi^om city to city: Malaga, 

leville, Cordova, all became successively mad on the theme; 

othing was talked of throughout Andalusia, but the beauti- 

ul minstrel of the Alhambra. How coidd it be otherwise 

mong a people so musical and gallant as the Andalusians, 

hen the lute was magical in its powers, and the minstrel 

ispired by love. 

While all Andalusia was thus music-mad, a diiierent mood 
rovailed at the court of Spain. Philip V. , as is well known, 
as a miserable hypochondriac, and subject to all kinds of 
mcies. Sometimes he would keep to his bed for weeks 
Jgether, groaning under imaginary complaints. At other 
imes he would insist upon abdicating his throne, to the 
reat annoyance of his royal spouse, who had a strong relish 
>r the splendours of a court and the glories of a crown, and 
uided the sceptre of her imbecile lord with an expert and 
teady hand. 

Nothing was found to be so efficacious in dispelling the 
jyal megrims as the powers of music; the queen took 
therefore, to have the best performers, both vocal and 



are. 



IQQ THE ALUAMBRA. 

instrumental, at hand, and retained the famous Italian singer 
Farinelli about the court as a kind of royal physician. 

At the moment we treat of, however, a freak had come over 
the mind of this sapient and illustrious Bourbon, that sur- 
passed all former vagaries. After a long spell of imaginary 
illness, which set all the strains ol Farinelli, and the consul- 
tations of a whole orchestra of court fiddlers, at defiance, the 
monarch fairly, in idea, gave up the ghost, and considered 
himself absolutely dead. 

This would have been harmless enough, and even convenient 
both to his queen and courtiers, had he been content to remain 
in the quietude befitting a dead man ; but, to their annoyance, 
he insisted upon having the funeral cerenaonies performed 
over him, and, to then- inexpressible perplexity, began to 
grow impatient, and to* revile bitterly at them for negh- 
gence and disrespect in leavmg him unburied. What was to 
be done ? To disobey the king's positive commands was 
monstrous in the eyes ot the obsequious courtiers of a punc- 
tihous court,— but to obey him, and bury him ahve, would be i 
downright regicide ! 

In the midst of this fearful dilemma, a rumour reached the 
court of the female minstrel, who was turning the brains of all 
Andalusia. The queen despatched missives in all haste, to 
summon her to St. Ildefonso, where the court at that timei 
resided. li 

Within a few days, as the queen with her maids of honour j 
was walking in those stately gardens, intended, with their i/ 
avenues, and terraces, and fountains, to eclipse the glories of \ 
Versailles, the far-famed minstrel was conducted into her if 
presence. The imperial Elizabetta gazed with surprise at the u 
youthful and unpretending appearance of the little being that ;' 
had set the world, madding. She was in her picturesque ] 
Andalusian dress; her silver lute was in her hand, and she 
stood with modest and downcast e^es, but with a simplicity I 
and freshness of beauty that stiU bespoke her "The Eose of i 
the Alhambra." | 

As usual, she was accompanied by the ever vigilant Frede- \ 
gonda, who gave the whole history of her parentage and 
descent to the inquiring queen. If the stately Ehzabetta 
had been interested by the appearance of Jacinta, she was 
still more pleased when she learnt that she was of a meri- 
torious, though impoverished line, and that her father had 
bravely fallen in the service of the crown. "If thy powers 



tiil: legend of the hose of the ALIIAMBUA. ltJ7 

qual their renown," said she, ''and thou canst cast forth this 
vil spirit that possesses thy sovereign, thy fortune shall 
lenceforth he my care, and honcjurs and wealth attend thee." 
Impatient to make trial of her skill, she led the way at once 

the apartment of the moody monarch. Jacinta followed 
dth downcast eyes through files of guards and ci'owds of 
burtiei-s. They arrived at length at a great chamber hung in 
lack. The windows were closed, to exclude the light of dp>y ; 
number of yellow wax tapers, in silver sconces, diffused a 
^igubrious hght, and dimly revealed the fig-uies of mutes in 
lourning dresses, and courtiers, who glided about with noise- 
step and wofe-begone visage. On the midst of a funeral 
ed or bier, liis hands folded on his breast, and the tip of his 
ose just visible, lay extended this would-be-buried monarch. 
The queen entered the chamber in silence, and, pointing to a 
)otstool in an obscure corner, beckoned to Jacinta to sit down 
id commence. 

At first she touched her lute with a faltering hand, but 
athering confidence and animation as she proceeded, drev/ 
)rth such soft, aerial harmony, that all present could scarce 
Blieve it mortal. As to the monarch, who had already con- 
dered himself in the world of spirits, he set it down for some 
agelic melody, or the music of the spheres. By degi'ees the 
leme was varied, and the voice of the minstrel accompanied 
\Q instrument. She poured forth one of the legendary bal- 
ids treating of the ancient glories of the Alhambra, and the 
3hievements of the Moors. Her whole soul entered into the 
leme, for with the recollections of the Albambra was associ- 
«d the story of her love ; the funereal chamber resounded 
ith the animating strain. It entered into the gloomy heart 
: the monarch. He raised his head and gazed around ; he sat 

on his couch ; his eye began to kindle ; at length, leaping 
pen the floor, he called for sword and buckler. 
The triumph of music, or rather of the enchanted lute, was 
)mplete ; the demon of melancholy was cast forth ; and, as it 
ere, a dead man brought to life. The windows of the apart- 
ent were thrown open; the glorious effTilgence of Spanish 
inshine burst into the late lugubrious chamber; all eyes 
►ught the lovely enchantress, but the lute had fallen from her 
md ; she had sunk upon the earth, and the next moment was 
asped to the bosom of Ruyz de Alarcon. 

The nuptials of the happy couple were shortly after celebrated 
ith great splendour,— but hold, I hear the reader ask how dio 



1(38 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Ruyz de Alarcon account for his long neglect? Oh,— that waa j 
all owmg to the opposition of a proud pragmatical old father, -^ ; 
besides, young people, who really like one another, soon come J 
to an amicable understanding, and bury all past grievances ' 
whenever they meet. i 

But how was the proud pragmatical old father reconciled tqJ 
the match? f 

Oh, his scruples were easily overruled by a word ortwofromi; 
the queen,— especially as dignities and rewards were showered 
upon the blooming favourite of royalty. Besides, the lute oh\ 
Jacinta, you know, possessed a magic power, and could con-i} 
trol the most stubborn head and hardest heart. 'i 

And what became of the enchanted lute? 

Oh, that is the most curious matter of all, and plainly proves 
the truth of^,all the story. That lute remained for some time 
in the family, but was purloined and carried off, as was sup- 
posed, by the great singer Farinelli, in pure jealousy. At his 
death it passed into other hands in Italy, who were ignorant of 
its mystic powers, and melting down the silver, transferred the ; 
strings to an old Cremona fiddle. The strings still retain some- 
thing of their magic virtues. A word in the reader's ear, but 
let it go no further, — that fiddle is now bewitching the wholeii|i 
world, — it is the fiddle of Paganini ! !' 



THE VETERAN. 



Among the curious acquaintances I have made in my rambles 
about the fortress, is a brave and battered old Colonel of In- 
valids, who is nestled like a hawk in one of the Moorish towers. 
His history, which he is fond of telling, is a tissue of those 
adventures, mishaps, and vicissitudes that render the life of 
almost every Spaniard of note as varied and whimsical as the 
pages of Gil Bias. 

He was in America at twelve years of age, and reckons; 
among the most signal and fortunate events of his life, his hav- 
ing seen General Washington. Since then he has taken a part 
in all the wars of his country ; he can speak experimentally of 
most of the prisons and dungeons of the Peninsula, has beer 
lamed of one leg, crippled in his hand, and so cut up and car- 
bonadoed, that he is a kind of walking monument of the 
troubles of Spain, on which the^e is a scar for every battle and 



i Tim: VETERAN. 169 

5roil, as every year was notched upon the tree of Rcbiuson 
Urusoe. The greatest misfortune oi: the brave old cavaher, 
lowever, appears to have been his having conunaiidecL at 
Malaga during a time of peril and contusion, and been made a 
general by the inhabitants to protect them from the invasion 
>f the French. 

! This has entailed upon him a number of just claims upon 
mvernment that I fear wiU employ him until his dying day in 
vriting and pi'intiiig petitions and memorials, to the great dis- 
|uiet of his mind, exhaustion of his purse, and penance of his 
riends ; not one of whom can visit hun without having to listen 

a mortal document of half an hour in length, and to carry 
Lway half a dozen pamplilets in his pocket. This, however, 
B the case throughout Spain: every where you meet with some 
vorthy wight brooding in a corner, and nursing up some pet 
grievance and cherished wrong. Beside, a Spaniard who has 

1 lawsuit, or a claim upon government, may be considered as 
umished with employment for the remainder of his life. 

I visited the veteran in his quarters in the upper part of the 
ferre del Vino, or Wine Tower. His room was small but suug, 
md connnanded a beautifid view of the Vega. It was arranged 
^th a soldier's precision. Three muskets and a brace of pistols, 
iJl bright and shining, were suspended against the wall, with a 
labre and a cane hanging side by side, and above these two 
50cked hats, one for parade, and one forordmaryuse. A small 
ihelf, containing some half dozen books, formed his library, 
me of which, a httle old mouldy volume of philoso]:)hical 
naxims, was his favourite reading. This he thumbed and 
)ondered over day by day ; applying every maxim to his own 
)articular case, provided it had a little tinge of wholesome bit- 
«mess, and treated of the injustice of the world. 

Yet he is social and kind-hearted, and, provided he can be 
liverted from his wrongs and his philosophy, is an entertain- 
ng companion. I like these old weather-beaten sons of fortune, 
md enjoy their rough campaigning anecdotes. In the course 
)f my visit to the one in question, I learnt some curious facts 
ibout an old military commander of the fortress, who seems to 
lave resembled him in some respects, and to have had similar 
"ortunes in the wars. These particulars have been augmented 
yy inquiries among some of the old inhabitants of the place, 
jarticularly the father of Mateo Ximenes, of whose traditional 
Jtories the worthy I am about to introduce to the reader is a 
favourite hero. 



no ^'-^'^^^ ALUAMBRA. 



THE GOVEENOE AND THE NOTARY. 

In former times there ruled, as governor of the Alhambra, a 
doughty old cavalier, who, from having lost one arm in ilio 
wars, was commonly known by the name of El Gobernador ; 
Manco, or the one-armed governor. He in fact prided himself 
upon being an old soldier, wore his mustachios curled up to his '^ 
eyes, a pair of campaigning boots, and a toledo as long as a spit, I 
with his pocket handkercliief in the basket-hilt. \ 

He was, moreover, exceedingly proud and punctilious, and', 
tenacious of all his privileges and dignities. Under his sway, i| 
the immunities of the Alhambra, as a royal residence and do-i 
main, were rigidly exacted. No one was permitted to enters 
the fortress with fire-arms, or even with a sword or staff, unless ' 
he were of a certain rank, and every horseman was obliged to I 
dismount at the gate and lead his horse by the bridle. Now, j 
as the hill of the Alhambra rises from the very midst of the 
city of Granada, being, as it were, an excrescence of the capi-;| 
tal, it must at all tunes be somewhat irksome to the captain- ' | 
general who commands the province, to have thus an imperium j: 
in imperio, a petty independent post, in the very core of his" 
domains. It was rendered the more galling in the present I 
insta^nce, from the irritable jealousy of the old governor, that 1 
took fire on the least question of authority and jurisdiction, • i 
and from the loose vagrant character of the people that had li 
gradually nestled themselves within the fortress as in a sanctu- ! 
ary, and from thence carried on a system of roguery and dep-i|: 
redation at the expense of the honest inhabitants of the city, t 
Thus there was a perpetual feud and heart-burning between!" 
the captain-general a,nd the governor; the more virulent on'' 
the part of the latter, inasmuch as the smallest of two neigh- ^ I. 
bouring potentates is always the most captious about his dignity, i '; 
The stately palace of the captain-general stood in the Plaza <; 
Nueva, immediately at the foot of the hill of the Alhambra, j 
and here was always a bustle and parade of guards, and domes- ) 
tics, and city functionaries. A beetling bastion of the f ortres? ; 
overlooked the palace and the public squa^re in front of it; and i 
on this bastion the old governor would occasionally strut back- 
wards and forwards, with his toledo girded by his side, keeping 



THE GOVEllNOn AND THE NOTARY. 171 

wary qjq down upon his rival, like a hawk reconnoitring his 
uarry from his nest in a dry tree. 

Whenever he descended into the city, it was in grand 
arade, on horsehack, surrounded by his gviards, or in his 
jate coach, an anoient and unwieldy Spanish edifice of carved 
jmber and gilt leather, drawn by eight mides, with running 
j)otmen, outriders, and lacqueys, on which occasions he flat- 
];red himself he impressed ever^' beholder with awe and ad- 
jdration as vicegerent of the king, though the wits of Gra- 
kda, particularly those who loitered about the palace of the 
aptain-general, were apt to sneer at his petty parade, and, in 
fusion to the vagrant cliaracter of his subjects, to greet him 
•ith the appellation of " the King of the beggars." 
One of the most fruitful sources of dispute between these 
ioughty rivals, was the right claimed by the go^■ernor 

. ive all things passed free of duty through the city, that 
■r< 'intended for the use of himself or his garrison. By de- 
. this privilege had given rise to extensive smuggling. A 
■ )f contrabandistas took up their abode in the hove\f3 of 
1 ' tortress and the numerous caves in its vicinity, and drove 
c iiiriving business under the connivance of the soldic-i's of 
lo garrison. 

Tlio vigilance of the captain-general was aroused. He con- 
t^Xo'\ his legal adviser and factotum, a shrewd, meddlesome 
] ('] ibano or notary, who rejoiced in an opportunity of per- 
] xingthe old potentate of the i^lhambra, and invoh-mg him 
i a maze of legal subtilities. He advised the captain-general 
I insist upon the right of examining every convoy passing 
trough the gates of his city, and he penned a long letter for 
1 11. in vindication of the right. Governor Maiico was a 
> : I i ;ht-f orward, cut-and-thrust old soldier, who bated an 
i riljano worse than the devil, and this one in particular, 
^)i■so than all other Escribanoes. 

What!" said he, curling up his mustachios fiercely, " does 
aptain-general set liis man of the pen to practise con- 
I 1 >ns upon me? I'll let him see that an old soldier is not to 
L baffled by Schoolcraft." 

[. ■ seized his pen, and scrawled a short letter in a crabbed 

^M'b in which, without deigning to enter into argimient, lie 

('d on the right of transit free of search, and denounced 

'ance on any custom-house officer who should lay his un- 

bilowed hand on any convoy protected by the flag of the 

i^iiambra. 



172 THE ALHAMBBA. 

While this question was agitated between the two pragmati 
cal i)otentates, it so happened that a mule laden with supphej 
for the f ortres : arrived one day at the gate of Xenil, by whicr 
it was to traverse a suburb of the city on its way to th( 
Alhambra. The convoy was headed by a testy old corporal, 
T\^ho had long served under the governor, and was a man aftei 
his own heart ; as trusty and staunch as an old toledo blade, 
As they approached the gate of the city, the corporal placec 
the banner of the Alhambra on the pack saddle of the mule, 
and, drawing himself up to a perfect perpendicular, advanced ' 
with his head dressed to the front, but with the wary side; 
glance of a cur passing through hostile grounds, and ready foi! 
a snap and a snarl. 

" Who goes there?" said the sentinel at the gate. 

" Soldier of the Alhambra," said the corporal, without turn ! 
ing his head. 

" What have you in charge?" 

"Provisions for the garrison." 

"Proceed." 

The corporal marched straight forward, followed by th( 
convoy, but had not advanced many paces, before a posse o\ 
custom-house officer rushed out of a small toll-house. 

"Hallo there!" cried the leader: "Muleteer, halt and opei; 
those packages." 

The corporal wheeled round, and drew himself up in battl( ' 
array. "Respect the flag of the Alhambra, " said he; "thes(| 
things are for the governor." j 

"A fig for the governor, and a fig for his flag. Muleteer,;! 
halt, I say." 

" Stop the convoy at your peril!" cried the corporal, cocking 
his musket. " Muleteer, proceed. " 

The muleteer gave his beast a hearty thwack, the custom 
house officer sprang forward, and seized the halter; wher©' 
upon the corporal levelled his piece and shot him dead. 

The street was immediately in an uproar. The old corpora I 
was seized, and after undergoing sundry kicks and cuffs, anc 
cudgellings, which are generally given impromptu, by the} 
mob in Spain, as a foretaste of the after penalties of the law j 
he was loaded with irons, and conducted to the city prison : I 
while his conu^ades were permitted to proceed with the convoy I 
after it had been well rummaged, to the Alhambi^a. f 

The old governor was in a towering passion, when he hearc | 
of this insult to his flag. and capture of his corporal. For r ; 



THE GOVERNOR AND THE NOTARY. 173 

time he stormed about the Moorish halls, and vapoured about 
tli'» bastions, and looked down fire and sword upon the palace 
of the captain-general. Having vented the first ebullition of 
his wrath, he despatched a message demanding the surrender 
oi the corporal, as to him alone belonged the right of sitting 
in judgment on the offences of those under his connnand. 
Tlie captain-general, aided by the pen of the delighted Escri- 
baiio, replied at f,reat length, arguing that as the offence had 
bcN'u connnitted within the walls of his city, and against one 
ui his civil officers, it was clearly within his proper jurisdic- 
; tion. The governor rejoined by a repetition of his demand ; 
the captain general gave a sur-rejoinder of still greater length, 
! and legal acumen ; the governor became hotter and more per- 

iemptory in his demands, and the captain -general cooler and 
more copious in his replies; until the old lion-hearted soldier 
pibsolutely roared with fury, at being thus entcingled in the 
tneshes of legal controversy. 

' While the subtle Escribano was thus amusing himself at the 
jxpense of the governor, he was conducting the trial of the 
»rporal ; who, mewed up m a narrow dungeon of the prison, 
lad merely a smaU grated window at which to show his iron- 
)Ound visage, and receive the consolations of his friends; a 
nountam of written testimony was diligently heaped up, ac- 
»rding to Spanish form, by the indefatigable Escribano ; the 
lorporal was completely overwhehned by it. He was con- 
dcted of murder, and sentenced to be hanged. 

It was in vain the g^overnor sent down remonstrance and 
Qenace from the Alhambra. The fatal day was at hand, and 
he corporal was put in capilla, that is to say, in the chapel of 
he prison; as is always done with culprits the day before 
xecution, that they may meditate on their approaching end, 
nd repent them of tlieir sins. 

Seeing things drawing to an extremity, the old governor 
etermined to attend to the affair in person. For this purpose 
18 ordered out his carriage of state, and, surrounded by his 
fuards, rumbled down the avenue of the Alliambra into the 
ity. Driving to the house of the Escribano, he summoned 
im to the portal. 

The eye of the old governor gleamed hke a coal at beholding 
he smh-king man of the law advancing with an air of exul- 

,tion. 

"What is this I hear," cried he, " that you are about to put 
death one of my soldiers?" 

I 



174 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

"All according to law,— all in strict form of justice," said 
the self-sufficient Escribano, chuckling and rubbing his hands. 
"I can show your excellency the written testimony in the 
case." 

" Fetch it hither," said the governor. 

The Escribano bustled into his office, delighted with having 
another opportunity of displaying his ingenuity at the expense 
of the hard-headed veteran. He returned with a satchel fulls 
of papers, and began to read a long deposition with profes- 
sional volubility. By tliis time, a crowd had collected, listen- 
ing with outstretched necks and gaping mouths. j 

"Pry 'thee man, get into the carriage out of this pestilent 
throng, that I may the better hear thee," said the governor. J 

The Escribano entered the carriage, when, in a twinkling,' 
the door was closed, the coachman smacked his whip, mules, 
carriage, giiards, and all dashed off at a thundering rate, leav- 
ing the crowd in gaping wonderment, nor did the governor 
pause until he had lodged his prey in one of the strongest | 
dungeons of the Alhambra. 

He then sent down a flag of truce in military style, propos- 1 
ing a cartel or exchange of prisoners, the corporal for the. 
notary. The pride of the captain -general was piqued, he re- 
turned a contemptuous refusal, and forthwith caused a gal- 
lows, tall and strong, to be erected in the centre of the Plaza! 
Neuva, for the execution of the corporal. i 

"O ho! is that the game?" said Governor Manco: he gave!! 
orders, and immediately a gibbet was reared on the verge oii 
the great beetling bastion that overlooked the Plaza.. " Now,'! 
said he, in a message to the captain-general, ' ' hang my soldiei j 
when you please ; but at the same time that he is swung oft' ir- 
the square, look up to see your Escribano dangling against the 
sky." 

The captain-general was inflexible; troops were paraded ini 
the square ; the drmns beat ; the bell tolled ; an immense mul-ij 
titude of amateurs had collected to behold the execution; or) 
the other hand, the governor paraded his garrison on the has j 
fcion, and tolled the funeral dirge of the notary from the Torre !^ 
de la Campana, or tower of the bell. ji 

The notary's v/ife pressed through the crowd with a whole '1 
progeny of little embryo Escribanoes at her heels, and throw , 
ing herself at the feet of the captain-general, implored him not \ 
to sacrifice the life of her husband, and the welfare of hersell 
and her numerous httle ones to a point of pride; "for you 



GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. 175 

know the old governor too well," said she, "to doubt that ho 
Y'ill put his threat in execution if you hang the soldier." 

Tlio captain-general was overpowered by lier tears and lam- 
entations, and the clamours of her callow brood. The corporal 
was sent up to the Alhambra under a guard, in his gallows 
garb, like a hooded friar ; but witli head erect and a face of 
iron. The Escribano was demanded m exchange, according to 
the cartel. The once bustling and self-sufficient man of the 
law was drawn forth from his dungeon, more dead than alive. 
tA.ll his flippancy and conceit had evaporated; his hair, it is 
paid, had nearly turned gray with affright, and he had a d(jAvn- 
east, dogged look, as if he still felt the halter round his neck. 

The old governor stuc^k his one arm a-kimbo, and for a mo- 
oaent surveyed him v/ith an iron smile. "Henceforth, my 
iriend,"said he, "moderate your zeal in hurrying others to 
she gallows; be not too certain of your own safety, even 
bhough you should have the law on your side; and, above aU, 
jiake care how you play off your Schoolcraft another time upon 
in old soldier." 



GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIEE. 

When Governor Manco, or the one-armed, kept up a show of 
Qilitary state in the Alhambra, he became nettled at the re- 
roaches continually cast upon his fortress of being a nestling 
place of rogues and contrabandistas. On a sudden, the old 
otentate determined on reform, and setting vigorously to 

ork, ejected whole nests of vagabonds out of the fortress, 
ind the gypsy caves with which the surrounding hills are 
oney-combed. He sent out soldiers, also, to patrol the 
k^enues and footpaths, with orders to take up all suspicious 
ersons. 

One bright summer morning, a patrol consisting of the testy 
Id corporal who had distinguished himself in the affair of 
he notary, a trumpeter and two privates Avere seated under 

e garden wall of the Generaliffe, beside the road which leads 

iwn from the mountain of the Sun, when they heard the 
.mp of a horse, and a inale voice singing in rough, though 

t unmusical tones, an old Castdian campaigning song. 

Presently they beheld a sturdy, sun-burnt fellow clad in the 



276 THE ALHAMBBA. 

ragged garb of a foot-soldier, leading a powerful Arabian 
horse caparisoned in the ancient Morisco fashion. 

Astonished at the sight of a strange soldier, descenduig, 
steed in hand, from that solitary mountain, the corporal 
stepped forth and challenged him. 

"Who goes there?" 

" A friend. " 

"Who, and what are you?" 

"A poor soldier, just from the wars, with a cracked crowri 
and empty purse for a reward." 

By this time they were enabled to view him more narrowly.' 
He had a black patch across his forehead, which, with a griz- 
zled beard, added to a certain dare-devil cast of countenance, 
while a slight squint threw into the whole an occasional gleam 
of roguish good-humour. 

Having answered the questions of the patrol, the soldier 
seemed to consider himself entitled to make others in return, 

"May I ask," said he, " what city is this which I see at tht 
foot of the hill?" 

"What city!" cried the trmnpeter; "come, that's too bad, 
Here's a feUow lurking about the mountain of the Sun, anc 
demands the name of the great city of Granada." 

"Granada! MadredeDios! can it be possible !" 

" Perhaps not!" re jomed the trumpeter, "and perhaps yoii 
have no idea that yonder are the towers of the Alhambra?" 

" Son of a trumpet," replied the stranger, "do not trifle wrfcl; 
me; if this be indeed the Alhambra, I have some strange mati' 
ters to reveal to the governor." |. 

" You will have an opportunity," said the corporal, " for wo) 
mean to take you before him." j 

By tills tune the trumpeter had seized the bridle of the steed i| 
the two privates had each secured an arm of the soldier, th(| 
corporal put hunself in front, gave the word, "forward 
march !" and away they marched for the Alhambra. 

The sight of a ragged foot-soldier and a fine Arabian hors' 
brought in captive by the patrol, attracted the attention of ai 
the idlers of the fortress, and of those gossip groups that gee 
erally assemble about wells and fountains at early dawn. Tb 
wheel of the cistern paused in its rotations; the slipshod sei 
vant-maid stood gaping with pitcher in hand, as the corpora i 
passed by with his prize. A motley train gradually gatheret j 
in the rear of the escort. Knowing nods, and winks, and con 
jectures passed from one to another. It is a deserter, sai( 



Mniic 



GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. 177 

oiK^; a contrabandista, said another; a bandalero, said a third 
uiiiil it was aflii-med that a captain of a desix^rate baud of 
loWbers had been captured by the prowess of the corporal and 
Lis patrol. "Well, well," said the old cj'ones one to another, 
jitaiii or not, lot Iutu get out of the grasp of old Governor 
CO if he can, though he is but one-handed." 
overnor Manco was seated in one of the iinier haJls of tJie 
Alliambra, taking bi^ morning's cup of chocolate in company 
kviili liis confessor, a fat Franciscan friai- from the neighbour- 
iv; convent. A demure, dark-eyed damsel of Malaga, tlie 
laughter of his housekeeper, was attending upon him. 

a^lie world hinted that the damsel, who, with all her demure- 
ic s, was a sly, buxom baggage, had found out a soft spot 
II the iron heart of the old governor, and held complete con- 
;rnl over him,— but let that pass; the domestic affairs of those 
ni-hty potentates of the earth should not be too narrowly 
;< rutinized. 

When word was brought that a suspicious stranger had 
)0('n taken lurking about the fortress, and was actually in the 
alter court, in durance of the corporal, waiting the pleasure 
'>f his excellency, the pride and stateliness of office swelled the 
)osom of the governor. Giving back his chocolate cup into 
he hands of the demure damsel, he called for his basket-hilted 
^v.)rd, girded it to his side, twirled up his mustachios, took 
lis s<:'at in a large high-backed chair, assumed a bitter and for- 
'i.lding aspect, and ordered the prisoner into his presence. 
1' ' soldier was brought in, still closely pinioned by his cap- 
and guarded by the corporal. He maintained," however, 
. lysolute, self-confident air, and returned the sharp, scruti- 
.izing look of the governor with an easy squint, which by no 
jieans pleased tlio punctilious old potentate. 

"WeU, culprit!" said the governor, after he had regarded 
nil for a moment in silence, "what have you to say for your^ 
Alt who are you?" 

"A soldier, just from the wars, who has brought awa^ 

)thing but scars and bruises." 
A soldier? humph! a foot-soldier by your garb. I under- 
id you have a fine Arabian horse. I presume you brought 
L too from the wars, beside your scars and briuses." 

** May it please your excellency, I have sometlung strange 
» tell about that horse. Indeed, I have one of the most won- 
^rful things to relate -something too that concerns the secu- 
:ty of this fortress, indeed, of all Granada. But it is a matter 



178 THE ALUAMBBA. 

to be imparted only to your private ear, or in presence of such 
only as are in your confidence." 

The governor considered for a moment, and then directed the 
corporal and his men to withdraw, but to post themselves out- 1 
side of the door, and be ready at call. " This holy friar," said ' 
he, "is my confessor, you may say anything in his presence— 
and this damsel," nodding towards the handmaid, who had,' 
loitered with an air of great curiosity, " this damsel is of great j 
secrecy and discretion, and to be trusted with any thing." j 

The soldier gave a glance between a squint and a leer at the( 
demm*e handnmid. "lam perfectly willing," said he, "that 
the damsel should remain. " 1 

When all the rest had withdrawn, the soldier commenced I 
his story. He was a fluent, smooth-tongued vai-let, and had a,', 
command of language above his apparent rank. 

"May it please your excellency," said he, "I am, as I before I 
observed, a soldier, and have seen some hard service, but my j 
term of enlistment bemg expired, I was discharged not longj 
since from the army at Valladolid, and set out on foot for my j 
native village in Andalusia. Yesterday evening the sun went | 
down as I wa.s traversing a great dry plain of old Castile." I 

"Hold!" cried the governor, "what is this you say? Old 
Castile is some two or three hundred miles from this." 

"Even so," replied the soldier, coolly, "I told your excel- 
lency I had str aige things to relate— but not more strange j 
than true— as your excellency will find, if you will deign me-a j 
patient hearing." | 

"Proceed, culprit," said the governor, twirling up his mus<j^! 
tachios. 

"As the sun went down," continued the soldier, " I cast m^ 
eyes about in search of some quarters for the night, but far di 
my sight could reach, there were no signs of habitation. I sa\^ 
that I should have to make my bed on the naked plain, witl 
my knapsack for a pillow ; but your excellency is an old sol J 
dier, and knows that to one who has been in the wars, such d 
night's lodging is no great hardship." \ 

The governor nodded assent, as he drew his pocket -handker 
chief out of the basket-hilt of his sword, to drive away a fl; I 
that buzzed about his nose. , 

"Well, to make a long story short," continued the soldier I 
" I trudged forward for several miles, until I came to a bridge, 
over a deep ravine, through which ran a little thread of water I 
ahnost dried up by the summer heat. At one end of the bridg- 



GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. ]7cj 

was a Moorish tower, the upper part all in ruins, but a vault 
in the foundations quite entire. Here, thhiks I, is a good place 
to make a halt. So I went down to the stream, took a hearty 
drink, for the water was pure and sweet, and I was parched 
with thu'st, then opening my wallet, 1 took out an onion and 
a few crusts, which were all my provisions, and seating myself 
; on a stone on the margin of the stream, began to make my 
supper; intending afterwards to quarter myself for the night 
j in the vault of the tower, and capital quarters they would have 
been for a campaigner just from the wars, as your excellency, 
who is an old soldier, may suppose." 

"I have put up gladly with worse in my time," said the 
governor, returning his pocket-handkerchief into the hilt of 
his sword. 

"While I was quietly crunching my crust," pursued the 
soldier, "I heard something stir within the vault; I listened: 
it was the tramp of a horse. By and by a man came forth 
from a door in the foundation of the tower, close by the 
water's edge, leading a powerful horse by the bridle. I could 
Dot well make out what he was by the starlight. It had a 
suspicious look to be lurking among the ruins of a tovrer in 
that wild solitary place. He might be a mere wayfarer like 
myself; he might be a contrabandista ; he might be a banda- 
[ero! What of that,— thank heaven and my poverty, I had 
aothing to lose, — so I sat still and crunched my crusts. 

*'He led his horse to the water close by where I was sitting, 
K) that I liad a fair opportunity of reconnoitring him. To my 
surprise, he was dressed in a Moorish garb, with a cuirass of 
rtoel, and a polished skullcap, that I distinguished by the re- 
1 action of the stars upon it. His horse, too, Avas harnessed ui 
b.e Morisco fashion, with great shovel stirrups. He led him, 
IS I said, to the side of the stream, into which the animal 
►lunged his head almost to the eyes, and drank until I thought 
le would have burst. 

"'Coinrade,' said I, 'your steed drinks well: it's a good sign 
rhen a horse plunges his muzzle bravely into the water.' 

'"He may well drink,' said the stranger, rpcaking witli a 
ffoorish accent; 'it is a good year since he had his last 
raught.' 

'"By Santiago,' said I, 'that beats even the camels that I 
ave seen in Africa. But come, you seem to be something of 

soldier, won't you sit down, and take part of a soldier's fare?' 
-In fact, I felt the want of a companion in this lonely place, 



180 TIIE ALHAMBBA. 

and was willing to put up with an infidel. Besides, as your 
excellency well knows, a soldiei is never very particular about 
the faitli of ills company, and soldiers of all countries are com- 
rades on peaceable ground." 

The governor again nodded assent. 

"Well, as I was saying, I invited him to share my supper, 
such as it was, for I could not do less in common hospitahty. 

" 'I have no time to pause for meat or drink,' said he, 'Ii 
have a long journey to make before morning.' 

" ' In which direction? ' said I. 

" 'Andalusia,' said he. 

" ' Exactly my route,' said I. ' So as you won't stop and eat t 
with me, perhaps you'll let me mount and ride with you. I i 
see your horse is of a powerful frame: I'll warrant he'U carry i 
double.' I 

"'Agreed,' said the trooper; and it would not have been; 
civil and soldierlike to refuse, especially as I had offered to i 
share my supper with him. So up he mounted, and up I; 
m.ountcd behind him. \ 

" ' Hold fast,' said he, 'my steed goes like the wind.' 

" ' Never fear me,' said I, and so off we set. ; 

*' From a walk the horse soon passed to a trot, from a trot to i| 
a gallop, and from a gallop to a harum-scarmii scamper. It ' 
seemed as if rocks, trees, houses, everything, flew hurry-scurry , 
behind us. 

" ' What town is this? ' said I. 

" 'Segovia,' said he; and before the words were out of his j 
mouth, the towers of Segovia were out of sight. We swept up 
the Guadarama mountains, and down by the Escurial ; and we 
skirted the walls of Madrid, and we scoured away across the 
plains of La Mancha. In tliis way we went up hill and down 
dale, by towns and cities all buried in deep sleep, and across 
mountains, and plains, and rivers, just glinomering in the star-; 
light. ,j 

"To make a long story short, and not to f?ttigue your excel- 'J 
lency, the trooper suddenly pulled up on the side of a moun- | 
tain. ' Here we are, ' said he, ' at the end of our journey. ' ; 

"I looked about but could see no signs of habitation: noth- 1 
ing but the mouth of a cavern : while I looked, I saw multitudee | 
of people in Moorish dresses, some on horseback, some on foot, ;{ ! 
arriving as if borne by the wind from all points of the compass, i 
and hurrying into the mouth of the cavern like bees into a^l 
hive. Before I could ask a question, the trooper struck hisiji 



GOVERNOR MANCO AND THE t^OLDIKR. ;i81 

long Moorish spurs into the horse's flanks, and dashed in with 
the tln-ong. Wo passed along a steep winding way that de- 
scended into the very bowels of the mountain. As we pushed 
on, a light began to glimmer up by little and little, hke the 
first ghmmerings of day, but what caused it, I could not dis-^ 
cover. It grew stronger and stronger, and enabled me to see 
everythmg around. I now noticed as wo passed along «Teat 
caverns opening to the right and left, like halls in an arstnal 
In some there wei-e shields, and helmets, and cuirasses and 
lances, and scunitars hanging against the walls; in others 
these were great heaps of warhke munitions and camp ccmil 
page lymgupon the ground. 

''It would have done your exceUency's heart good, being an 
old soldier, to have seen such grand provision for war. Then 
jin other caverns there were long rows of horsemen, armed to 
the teeth, with lances raised and bamiers unfurled, aU ready 
for the field; but they all sat motionless in their saddles like 
BO many statues. In other haUs, were warriors sleeping on the 
ground beside their horses, and foot soldiers in groups, ready 
to fall into the ranks. All were in old-fashioned Moorish 
dresses and armour. 

*'WeU, your excellency, to cut a long story short, we at 

tength entered an immense cavern, or I might say palace, of 

gi'otto work, t4ie walls of which seemed to be veined with gold 

pand silver, and to sparkle with diamonds and sapnhires, and 

all kinds of precious stones. At the u]iper end sat a Moorish 

kmg on a golden throne, with his nobles on each side, and a 

liiiard of African blacks with drawn scimitars. All the' crowd 

that continued to flock in, and amounted to thousands and 

thousands, passed one by one before his throne, each paying 

Qomage as he passed. Some of the multitude were dressed in 

; :nagnificent robes, without stain or blemish, and sparkling 

r.vith jewels; others in burnished and enamelled armour; while 

)thers were in mouldered and mildewed garments, and in 

1 irmour all battered and dinted, and covered with rust. 

"I had hitherto held my tongue, for your excellency well 
mows, it is not for a soldier to ask many questions when on 
f luty. but I could keep silence no longer. 

j; '"Pry thee, comrade,' said I, 'what is the meaning of aU 
I Ms?' * 

':^ " 'This,' said the trooper, ' is a great and pov.-erful mystery, 
^now, O Christian, that you see before you the court and 
nny of Boabdil, the last king of Granada.' 



182 2'i7^ ALIIAMBRA, 

" 'What is this you tell me!' cried I. ' Boabdil and Ms 
court were exiled from the land hundreds of years agone, and 
aU died in Africa.' 

"'So it is recorded in youx' lying chronicles,' rephed the 
Moor, 'but know that Boabdil and the warriors who made 
the last struggle for Granada were all shut up in this moun- 
tain by powerful enchantment. As to the king and army that i 
marched forth from Granada at the time of the surrender, j 
they were a mere phantom train, or spirits and demons per , 
mitted to assume those shapes to deceive the Christian sove- ; 
reigns. And furthermore let me tell you, friend, that all Spain ! 
is a country under the power of enchantment. There is not a 
mountain-cave, not a lonely watch-tower in the plains, nor 
ruined castle on the hills, but has some spell-bound warriors \ 
sleeping from age to age within its vaults, until the sins are i 
expiated for which AUah permitted the dominion to pass for a j 
time out of the hands of the faithful. Once every year, on the | 
eve of St. John, they are released from enchantment from sun- ^ 
set to sunrise, and permitted to repair here to pay homage to \ 
their sovereign ; and the crowds which you beheld swarming 
into the cavern are Moslem warriors from their haunts in all 
parts of Spain ; for my own part, you saw the ruined tower of , 
the bridge in old Castile, where I have now wintered and sum- , 
mered for many hundred years, and where I must be back j 
again by day -break. As to the battalions of horse and foot | 
which you beheld drawn up in array in the neighbouring cav-. I 
€rns, they are the spell-bound warriors of Granada. It is 
written in the book of fate, that when the enchantment is 
broken, Boabdil ^t.U descend from the mountains at the head c 
of this army, resume his throne in the Alhambra and his sway ,, 
of Granada, and gathering together the enchanted warriors ;i 
from all parts of Spain, will reconquer the peninsula, and re- 
store it to Moslem rule.' i 

" ' And when shall this happen?' said I. 

" 'Allah alone knows. We had hoped the day of deliver^ 
unce Avas at hand ; but there reigns at present a vigilant gov- ,, 
ernor in Alhambra, a staunch old soldier, the same called 11 
Governor Manco ; while such a warrior holds command of the ;'; 
very outpost, and stands ready to check the first irruption ( 
from the mountain, I fear Boabdil and liis soldiery must be , 
content to rest upon their arms.' " 

Here the governor raised himself somewhat perpendicularly, 
adjusted his sword, and twirled up his mustachios. 



OOVERNOR MANCO AND THE SOLDIER. 183 

** To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your excel- 
lency, the trooper having given nic this account, dismounted 
fi'oni his steed. 

*' ' Tarry here,' said he, ' and guard my steed, while I go and 
bow the knee to Boahdil.' So saying, he strode away among 
the throng that pressed forward to the throne. 

"What's to be done? thought T, when thus left to myself. 
Sliall I wait here until this infidel returns to v/hisk me off on 
his goblin steed, the Lord knows where? or shall I make the 
most of my time, and beat a retreat from this hobgoblin com- 
munity?— A soldier's mind is soon made up, as your excellency 
well knows. As to the horse, he belonged to an avowed enemy 
of the faith and the realm, and was a fail- prize according to 
the rules of war. So hoisting myself from the crupper into 
khe saddle, I turned the reins, struck the Moorish stirrups 
to the sides of the steed, and i^ut hhn to make the best of his 
way out of the passage by which we had entered. As we 
woured by the halls where the Moslem horsemen sat in 
otionless battahons, I thought I heard the clang of armour, 
md a hollow murmur of voices. I gave the steed another 
aste of the stirrups, and doubled my speed. There was now a 
joun 1 behind me like a inishing blast ; I heard the clatter of a 
ihousand hoofs; a countless throng overtook me; I was borne 
Jong in the press, and hurled forth from the mouth of the 
javern, while thousands of shadowy forms were swept off in 
•very direction by the four winds of heaven. 

*'In the whirl and confusion of the scene, I was throwTi 
rem the saddle, and fell senseless to the earth. When I came 
\0 myself I was lying on the brow of a hill, with the Arabian 
iteed standing beside me, for in falhng my arm had slipped 
nrithin the bridle, which, I presume, prevented his whisking 
W to old Castile. 

^1 "Your excellency may easily judge of my surprise on look- 

' ng round, to behold hedges of aloes and Indian figs, and other 

)roofs of a southern climate, and see a great city below me 

■- v-ith towers and palaces, and a grand cathedral. I descended 

he liill cautiously, leading my steed, for I was afraid to 

L mount him again, lest he should play me some slippery trick. 

\ ^s I descended, I met with your patrol, who let me into the 

^ ecret that it was Granada that lay before me : and that I was 

; .ctually under the walls of the Alhambra, the fortress of the 

I edoubted Governor Manco, the terror of all enchanted Mos- 

^ms. Wlien I heard this, I determined at once to seek youi' 



3-34' 'J-'HUj ALllAMBRA, 

\ 
excellency, to inform you of all that I iiad seen, and to warn ' 
you of the perils that surround and undermine you, that you 
may take measures in time to guard your fortress, and the. 
kingdom itself, from this intestine army that lurks in the very 
bowels of the land," 

"And pr'ythee, friend, you who are a veteran campaigner, | 
and have seen so much service," said the governor, "how 
would you advise me to go about to prevent this evil?" 

"It is not for an humble private of the ranks," said the , 
soldier modestly, "to pretend to instruct a commander of ^ 
your excellency's sagacity; but it appears to me that your 
excellency might ca.use all the caves and entrances into the : 
mountain to be walled up with solid mason-work, so that ' 
Boabdil and his army might be completely corked up in their ■! 
subterranean habitation. If the good father too, " added the ; 
soldier, reverently bowing to the friar, and devoutly crossing 
himself, "would consecrate the barricadoes with his blessing, i 
and put up a few crosses and reliques, and images of saints, I j 
think they might withstand aU the power of infidel enchant- j 
ments." 

" They doubtless would be of great avail, " said the friar. « 

The governor now placed his arm a-kimbo, with his hand j 
resting on the hilt of his toledo, fixed his eye upon the soldier, 
and gently wagging his head from one side to the other : 

"So, friend," said he, "then you really suppose I am to be , 
gulled with this cock-and-bull stoiy about enchanted moun- '[ 
tains, and enchanted Moors. Hark ye, culprit!— not another n 
word. — An old soldier you maybe, but you'll find you have 
an old soldier to deal with; and one not easily outgeneralled. ;| 
Ho ! guard there !— put tins fellow in irons." i 

The demure handmaid would have put in a word in favour i 
of the prisoner, but the governor silenced her with a look. 

As they were pinioning the soldier, one of the guards felt] 
something of bulk in his pocket, and drawing it forth, found a;; 
long leathern purse that appeared to be weU filled. Holding it: 
by one corner, he turned out the contents on the table before | 
the governor, and never did freebooter's bag make more gor-: j 
geous delivery. Out tumbled rings and jewels, and rosaries of | 
pearls, and sparkling diamond crosses, and a profusion of an- j 
cient golden coin, some of which fell jingling to the floor, and | 
rolled away to the uttermost parts of the chamber. j 

For a time the functions of justice were suspended : there ' 
was a universal scramble after the glittering fugitives. The|j 



GOVERNOR MAN CO AND TlIK SOLDIKR. ig^ 

:ovornor alono, who was imbued with true Spanish pride, 
n.-iiitaiiied his stately decprum, though his eye betrayed a 
It lo anxiety until the last coin and jewel Avas restored to the 



The friar was not so calm; his whole face flowed like a fur- 
a' <\ and his eyes twinkled and flashed at sight of the rosaries 
ii'l crosses. 

' Sacrilegious wretch that thou art," exclaimed he, "what 
,liurch or sanctuary hast thou been plundering of these sacred 
cliques?" 

\ "Neither one nor the other, holy father. If they be sacrile- 
ious spoils, they must have been taken in times long past by 
le infidel trooper I have mentioned. I was just going to tell 
is excellency, when he intermpted me, that, on taking pos- 
jssionof the trooper's horse, I unhooked a leathern sack which 
ung at the saddle bow, and which, I presume, contained the 
tlunder of his campaignings in days of old, when the Moors 
l^erran the country." 

I " Mighty well,— at present you will make up your mind to 
like up your quarters in a chamber of the Vermilion towers, 
hich, though not under a magic spell, will hold you as safe as 
!iy cave of your enchanted Moors." 

i " Your excellency will do as you think proper," said the pri- 
mer coolly. " I shall be thankful to your excellency for any 
bcommodation in the fortress. A soldier who has been in the 
•ars, as your excellency well knows, is not particular about 
Is lodgings; and pro\aded I have a snug dungeon and regular 
itions, I shall manage to malce myself comfortable. I would 
*ily entreat, that while your excellency is so careful about me, 
pu would have an eye to your fortress, and think on the hint 
) dropped about stopping up the entrances to the moun- 
i.in." 

i'Here ended the scene. The prisoner was conducted to a 

.TOitg dungeon in the Vermilion towers, the Arabian steed 

as led to his excellency's stable, and the trooper's sack was 

posited in his excellency's strong box. To the latter, it is 

1. '. the friar made some demur, questioning whether the 

d rehques, which were evidently sacrilegious spoils, should 

oe placed in custody of the church; but as the governor 

a ^ peremptory on the subject, and was absolute lord in the 

Ihambra, the friar discreetly dropped the discussion, but do- 

■■rmined to convey inteUigence of the fact to the church dig- 

i itaries in Granada. 



186 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

To explain tliese x^rompt and rigid measures on the part oi, 

old Governor Manco, it is proper to observe, that about this 
time the Alpuxarra mountains in the neighbourhood of Gra- 
nada were terribly infected by a gang of robbers, under the 
command of a daring chief named Manuel Borasco, who were 
accustomed to prowl about the country, and even to enter the 
city in various disguises to gain intelligence of the departure 
of convoys of merchandise, or travellers with well-lined purses. 
whom they took care to waylay in distant and sohtary passes 
of their road. These repeated and daring outrages had awak-; 
ened the attention of government, and the commanders of the 
various posts had received instructions to be on the alert, and 
to take up all suspicious stragglers. Governor Manco was pari^ 
ticularly zealous, in consequence of the various stigmas that 
had been cast upon his fortress, and he now doubted not that 
he had entrapped some formidable desperado of this gang. 

In the mean time the story took wind, and became the talt 
not merely of the fortress, but of the whole city of Granada. 1 
It was said that the noted robber, Manuel Borasco , the terroi I 
of the Alpuxarras, had fallen into the clutches of old Gov ernoi | 
Manco, and been cooped up by him in a dungeon of the Ver ij 
milion towers, and every one who had been robbed by hinaj 
flocked to recognize the marauder. The Yermihon towers, as 1 
is well known, stand apart from the Alhambra, on a sister hil } 
separated from the main fortress by the ravhie, down whicl !| 
passes the main avenue. There were no outer walls, but a son! 
tinel patrolled before the tower. The window of the chambei j 
in which the soldier was confined was strongly grated, anc 
looked upon a small esplanade. Here the good folks of Gra 
nada repaired to gaze at him, as they would at a laughing 
hyena grinning through the cage of a menagerie. Nobody 
however, recognized him for Manuel Borasco, for that terribl( 
robber was noted for a ferocious physiop^nomy, and had by n( 
means the good-humoured squint of the prisoner. Visitors,] 
came not merely from the city, but from all parts of the coun l\ 
try, but nobody knew him, and there began to be doubts in th( ' 
minds of the common people, whether there might not be som* ji 
truth in his story. Tha!;^ Boabdil and his army were shut up ii ,| 
the ?iiountain, was an old tradition which many of the ancien J 
inhabitants had heard from their fathers. Numbers went u\l 
to the mountain of the Sun, or rather of St. Elena, in search oi 
the cave mentioned by the soldier; and saw and peeped int(! 
the deep dark pit, descending, no one knows how far, into the j , 



GOVERNOR MAN CO AND THE SOLDIER. 187 

lOiintaiii, and wliicli remains there to this day, the fabled en- 

aiiro to the subterranean abode of Boabdil. 

! .\ degrees, the soldier beeame popular with the common 

( i.le. A freebooter of the moimtains is by no means the op- 

•. -I )iious chara<i>ter in Spain that a robber is in any other coun- 

\ ; on the contrary, he is a kind of chivalrous personage in 

ic tves of the lower classes. There is always a disposition, 

,-(>. to cavil at the conduct of those in command, and many 

v;au to munnurat the liigh-handed measures oi' old Governor 

aiico, and t(j look upon the prisoner in the light oi" a martyr. 

'J'iic soldier, moreover, was a merry, waggish fellow, that 

"' a joke for every one who came near his w^indow, and a 

-peech for every female. He had procured an old gui- 

iso, and would sit by his window and sing ballads and 

litties to the delight of the women of the neighbour- 

uil. who would assemble on the esplanade in the evenings, 

.1(1 dance boleros to his music. Having trinmied oft" his 

; u>.;h beard, his sunburnt face found favour in the eyes of 

( ■ { air, and the demure handmaid of the governor declared 

his squmt was perfectly irresistible. This kind-hearted 

niu^el had, from the first, evinced a deep sympathy in his 

h-tunes, and having in vain tried to mollify the governor, 

^id set to work privately to mitigate the rigour of his dis- 

VHsations. Every day she brought the prisoner some crumbs 

( comfort which had fallen from the governor's table, or 

1 en abstracted from his larder, together with, now and then, 

{Consoling bottle of choice Val de Peiias, or rich Malaga. 

AV]iile this petty treason was going on in the very centre of 

1e old governor's citadel, a storm of open war was brewing up 

along his external foes, Tlie circumstance of a bag of gold 

I id jewels having been found upon the person of the supposed 

ibber, had been reported with many exaggerations in Gra- 

iida. A question of territorial jurisdiction was immediately 

urtod by the governor's inveterate rival, the captain-general. 

](' insisted that the prisoner had been captured without the pre- 

(luts of the Alhambra, and within the rules of his authority. 

J ' demanded his body, therefore, and the spolia opima taken 

^ith him. Due information having been carried likewise by 

t ( ' friar to the grand Inquisitor, of the crosses, and the rosa- 

is. and other reliques contained in the bag, he claimed thecul- 

lit, as having been guilty of sacrilege, and insisted that his 

]imder was due to the church, and his body to the next Auto 

(. Fe. The feuds ran high; the governor was furious, and 



188 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

swore, rather than surrender his captive, he would hang hin 
up within the Alhambra, as a spy caught within the purheui : 
of the fortress. . 

The captain-general threatened to send a body of soldiers t( I 
tra^nsfer the prisoner from the Vermilion towers to the city | 
The grand Inquisitor was equally bent upon despatching i). 
number of the familiars of the holy office. Word was brougli 
late at night to the govei-nor, of these machinations. "Le" 
them come," said he, "they'll find me beforehand with themi': 
He must rise bright and early who would take in an old sol ' 
dier." He accordingly issued orders to have the prisoner re 
moved at daybreak to the Donjon Xeep within the walls of thd 
Alhambra: "And d'ye hear, cliild," said he to his demurs 
handmaid, ' ' tap at my door, and wake me before cock-crow 4 
ing, that I may see to the matter myself." | 

The day dawned, the cock crowed, but nobody tapped at th( jt 
door of the governor. The sun rose high above the mountain \ 
tops, and glittered in at his casement ere the governor was j 
awakened from his morning dreams by liis veteran corporal, ;[ 
who stood before him with terror stamped upon his iroin 
visage. \ 

"He's off! he's gone!" cried the corporal, gasping for breath, | 

"Who's off ?- who's gone?" i 

"The soldier— the robber— the devil, for aught I know. His jj 
dungeon is empty, but the door locked. No one knows hoTSij 
he has escaped out of it. " ii 

"Who saw him last?" 

' ' Your handmaid, —she brought him his supper. " 

"Let her be called instantly." 

Here was new matter of confusion. The chamber of the i 
demure damsel was likewise empty; her bed had not beecii 
slept in ; she had doubtless gone off with the culprit, as she 
had appeared, for some days past, to have frequent conversa-ii 
tions with him. ij 

This was wounding the old governor in a tender part, but heij! 
had scarce time to wince at it, when new misfortunes broke il 
upon his view. On going into his cabinet, he found his strong li 
box open, the leathern purse of the trooper extracted, and with ii 
it a couple of corpulent bags of doubloons. ' 

But how, and which way had the fugitives escaped? A ; 
peasant who lived in a cottage by the road-side leading upi 
into the Sierra, declared that he had heard the tramp of r| 
powerful steed, just before daybreak, passing up into the; 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. IQg 

lountains. He had looked out at bis casement, and could 
IS t distinguish a horseman, with a female seated before hhn. 
"Search the stables," cried Governor Manco. The stables 
ere searched; all the horses were in their stalls, excepting 
le Arabian steed. In his place was a stout cudgel tied to 
le manger, and on it a label bearing these words, " A gift to 
overnor Manco, from an old soldier." 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. ' 

There lived once, in a v>raste apartment of the Alhambra, & 
erry httle fellow named Lope Sanchez, who worked in the 
Lrdens, and was as brisk and blithe as a grasshopper, smging 
day long. He was the life and soul of the fortress; when 
, work was over, he woidd sit on one of the- stone benches of 
e esplanade and strum his guitar, and sing long ditties about 
le Cid, and Bernardo del Carpio, and Fernando del Pulgar, 
d other Spanish heroes, for the amusement of the old sol- 
3rs of the fortress, or would strike up a merrier tune, and set 
e girls dancing boleros and fandangos. 

Like most httle men. Lope Sanchez had a strapping buxom 
me for a wife, who could almost have put him in her pocket- 
it he lacked the usual poor man's lot,— instead of ten chil- 
;en he had but one. This was a little black-eyed girl, about 
^elve years of age, named Sanchica, who was as merrv as 
tnself, and the delight of his heart. She played obout him 
he worked in the gardens, danced to his guitar as he Fat in 
e shade, and ran as wild as a young fawn about the groves 
Id alleys, and ruined halls of tlie Alhambra. 
It was now the eve of the blessed St. John, and the holyday- 
s^ng gossips of the Alhambra, men, women, and children 
jnt up at night to the mountain of the Sun, which rise- 
love the Generaliffe, to keep their midsummer vigil on its 
^el summit. It was a bright moonlight night and all the 
3untains were gray and silvery, and the citv, with its domes 
d spires, lay m shadows below, and the Vega was lilce a 
Ty land, with haunted streams gleaming among its dusky 
oves. On the highest part of the mountam they lit up a 
Be fire, according to an old custom of the country handed 
' from the Moors. The inhabitants of the surroundinar 



190 TUB ALII AM BRA. 

country were keeping a similar vigil, and bale fires here oj] 
there in the Vega, and along the folds of the mountains, blaze 
up palely in the moonlight. 

The evening was gaily passed in dancing to the guitar < 
Lope Sanchez, who was never so joj^ous as when on a holida 
revel of the kind. While the dance was going on, the litti 
Sanchica with some of her playmates sported among the ruiii 
of an old Moorish fort that crowns the mountain, when, i 
gathering pebbles in the fosse, she found a small hand, cui • 
ously carved of jet, the fingers closed, and the thumb firm] 
clasped upon them. Overjoyed with her good fortune, sli 
ran to her mother with her prize. It immediately became 
subject of sage speculation, and was eyed by some with supe^ 
stitious distrust. "Throw it away," said one, "it is Moorisl: 
—depend upon it there's mischief and witchcraft in it." " £Ji 
no means," said another, "you may sell it for something 1|^ 
the jewellers of the Zacatin." In the midst of this discussic ' 
an old tawny soldier drew near, who had served in Africa, ar I' 
was as swarthy as a Moor. He examined the hand with ' ^ 
knowing look. "I h:ive seen things of this kind," said b (' 
" among the Moors of Barbary. It is of great value to guar* 
against the evil eye, and all kinds of spells and enchantment : ' 
I give you joy, friend Lope, this bodes good luck to yoi; 
child." I 

Upon hearing this, the wife of Lope Sanchez tied the litt f 
hand of jet to a riband, and hung it round the neck of he 
daughter. , 

The sight of this talisman called up all the favourite siipe: f 
stitions about the Moors. The dance was neglected, and the 
sat m groups on the gTound, telling old legendary tales hande 
down from their ancestors. Some of their stories turned upo ) 
the wonders of the very mountain upon which they weii 
seated, which is a famous hobgobhn region. 

One ancient crone gave a long account of the subterranea , 
palace in the bowels of tbat mountain, where Boabdil and a , 
his Moslem court are said to remain enchanted. "'Anion] 
yonder ruins," said she, pointing to some crumbling walls an j 
mounds of earth on a distant part of the mountain, " there"! 
a deep black pit that goes down, down into the very heart ( ^' 
the mountain. For all the money in Granada, I would nc '; 
look down into it. Once upon a time, a poor man of the A j 
hambra, who tended goats upon this mountain, scramble^ 
down into that pit after a kid that had fallen in. He came on I 



! LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. lOi 

^ain, all wild and staring, and told such things of what he 
^ad seen, that every one thought his brain was turned. He 
•aved for a day or two about hobgoblin Moors that had pur- 
ued him in the cavern, and could liardly be persuaded to 
Irive his goats up again to the mountain. He did so at last, 
lut, poor man, he never came down again. The neighbours 
ound his goats browsing about the Moorish ruins, and his hat 
nd mantle lying near the mouth of the pit, but he was never 
lore heard of." 

The little Sancliica hstened with breathless attention to this 
tory. She was of a curious nature, and felt immediately a 
reat hankering to peep into this dangerous pit. Stealing 
way from her companions, she sought the distant ruins, and 
fter groping for some time among them, came to a small 
ollow or basin, near the brow of the mountain, where it 
ivept steeply down into the valley of the Darro. In the 
3ntre of this basin yawned the mouth of the pit. Sanchica 
entured to the verge and peeped in. All was black as pitch, 
ad gave an idea of immeasurable depth. Her blood ran cold 
-she drew back— then peeped again— then would have run 
way— then took another peep— the very horror of the thing 
as delightful to her. At length she roUed a large stone, and 
ished it over the brink. For some time it fell in silence; 
len struck some rocky projection with a violent crash, then 
abounded from side to side, rumbhng and tumbling, with a 
)ise Hke thunder, then made a final splash into water, far, 
r below, and all was again silent. 

The silence, however, did not long continue. It seemed as 
something had been awakened within this dreary abyss. A 
urmuring sound gradually rose out of the pit like the hum 
id buzz of a bee-hive. It grew louder and louder; tliere was 
e confusion of voices as of a distant multitude, together with 
e faint din of arms, clasl^of cymbals, and clangour of trum- 
*ts, as if some army were marshalhng for battle in the very 
'wels of the mountain. 

The child drew off with silent awe, and hastened back to 
e place where she had left her parents and their companions. 
1 were gone. The bale fire was expiring, and its last wreath 
smoke curling up in the moonshine. The distant fires that 
■d blazed along the mountains and in the Vega were all ex- 
bguished ; every thing seemed to have sunk to repose. San- 
|ica called her parents and some of her companions by name, 
ft received no reply. She ran down the side of tlie mountain' 



^Q2 THE ALHAMBBA. '^\ 

and by the gardens of the Generahffe, until she arrived tn the 

alley or trees leading to the Alhambra, where she seated herseh 

on a bench of a woody recess to recover breath. The beU from 

the watch-tower of the Alhambra told midnight. There wa^ 

a deep tranquillity, as if all nature slept; excepting the lo^ 

tinkling sound of an unseen stream that ran under the cover 

of the bushes. The breathing sweetness of the atmosphere 

was lulUng her to sleep, when her eye was caught by some 

thing glittering at a distance, and to her surprise, she beheld i 

long cavalcade of Moorish warriors pouring down the mouri, 

tain side, and along the leafy avenues. Some w-ere armec 

with lances and shields; others with scimitars and battle-axes 

and with polished cuirasses that flashed in the moon-beams 

Their horses pranced proudly, and champed upon the bit, bu 

their tramp caused no more sound than if they had been sho( 

with felt, and the riders were aU as pale as death. Amon] 

them rode a beautiful lady with a crowned head and Ion;: 

golden locks entwined with pearls. The housings of he 

palfrey were of crimson velvet embroidered with gold, an<; 

swept the earth; but she rode aU disconsolate, with eyes eve 

fixed upon the ground. . i 

Then succeeded a train of courtiers magnificently arrayed i| 

robes and turbans of divers colours, and amidst these, on ; 

cream-coloured charger, rode king Boabdil el Chico, in a roy£, 

mantle covered with jewels, and a crown sparkling wit; 

diamonds. The little Sanchica knew him by his yellow bearc; 

and his resemblance to his portrait, which she had often see 

in the picture gallery of the Generaliife. She gazed in wonde 

and admiration at this royal pageant as it passed ghstenin 

among the trees, but though she knew these monarchs, an, 

courtiers, and warriors, so pale and silent, Avere out of tlj 

common course of nature, and things of magic or enchan' 

ment, yet she looked on with a bold heart, such courage di 

she derive from the mystic talisman of the hand which w; 

suspended about her neck. 

The cavalcade having passed by, she rose and followed, 
continued on to the great gate of Justice, which stood wic 
open; the old invahd sentinels on duty, lay on the stoi 
benches of the Barbican, buried in profound and apparent 
charmed sleep, and the phantom pageant swept noiselessly l 
them with flaunting banner and triumphant state. Sanchiv 
would have followed, but, to her surprise, she beheld an ope; 
ing in the earth within the Barbican, leading down benea 



LEGEND OF TUB TWO DISCREET STATUES. I93 

the foundations of the tower. She entered for a little distance 
and was encom-aged to proceed by finding steps rudely hewn 
m the rock, and a vaulted passage here and there lit up bva 
silver lamp, which, while it gave light, diffused likeW a 
grateful fragrance Venturing on, she came at last to a great 
hall wrought out of the heart of the mountain, magnific^Hv 
furmshed m the Moorish style, and hghted u^ by!ilver and 
crystal lamps. Here on an ottoman sat an old Ln in MooSsh 
fT' 1'^^ '?^ r^f beard, nodding and dozing, ^ritht 
staff m his hand, which seemed ever to be slipping from his 
?ra.sp ; while at a little distance, sat a beautiful lady in ancient 
,pamsh dress, with a coronet all sparkhng with dL2nds 
md her hair entwined with pearls, who waTsoftly pS on 
I sUyer lyre. The little Sanchica now recollected i stor^ she 
md heard among the old people of the Alhambra, concernSg 
.Gothic princess confined in the centre of the mount^in^f 
TJi ^ i^iaf cian, whom she kept bound up in magic 

leep by the power of music. "i^gio 

The lady paused with surprise, at seeing a mortal in that 
nchanted hall. "Is it the eve of the bleLd St John"' ^d 

i , "It is," replied Sanchica 
iiw^chM ^'"Y'f * *^^ ""agio chai-m is suspended. Come 

oth b^ nd r K ""■ °f ' ^ '^ ^ C^"^'^" ""^^ thyself, 
e tehsman ?h^r^' ^ enchantment. Touch my fetters with 

So saying, she opened her robes and displaved a broad 
^ r to the ground. The child hesitated not to apply the little 

?hel^-th i'l'r'''"" '^f "' «°<' immediatel/the^hain fill 
the eaith. At the sound the old man awoke, and began to 

elJrrSat* *t'' M'^ "" ""'' «"^^- over' the choi:!.s of 

st^ff ^ti ;",'''' ^'^"'l- " ^*'^'" ^'^ *he lady. " touch 

fe rlrm h^f tahsmamc hand of jet." Thechild didso, and 

nn The^'r ^''T ?°^ 'l^ '^""^ ^ =* •'^^P «'eep on the otto- 

■^ chTds inhl ^h "'.^^l^'rP'^S magician, then touching 
oharmnl- - i l'^''^'"^***^ '" ^'^ ear, "O potent spirit 
^ttS'tiif:^ '^*1 '^O'^t^^e thus to hold his senses 
"Kr aI^ ff*"""'' ^'^ "^^y-" "Now follow me, my 
Ud, continued she, " and thou shaJt behold the Alhambra ^ 



194 THE ALHAMBBA. 

it was in the days of its glory, for thou hast a magic talisman 
that reveals all enchantments." Sanchica followed the lady in 
silence. They passed up through the entrance of the cavern 
into the Barbican of the gate of Justice, and thence to the 
Plaza de las Algibes, or esplanade within the fortress. This 
was all filled with Moorish soldiery, horse and foot, marshalled 
in squadrons, with banners displayed. There were royal 
guards also at the portal, and rows of African blacks with 
drawn scimitars. No one spoke a word, and Sanchica passed 
on fearlessly after her conductor. Her astonishment increased 
on entering the royal palace, ia which she had been reared. 
The broad moonshine lit up all the halls, and courts, and 
gardens, almost as brightly as if it were day ; but revealed a 
far different scene from that to which she was accustomed. 
The walls of the apartments were no longer stained and rent by 
time. Instead of cobwebs, they were now hung with rich sUks 
of Damascus, and the gildings and arabesque paintings were 
restored to their original brilliancy and freshness. The halls, 
instead of being naked and unfurnished, were set out with 
divans and ottomans of the rarest stuffs, embroidered with 
pearls, and studded with precious gems, and all the fountains 
in the courts and gardens were playing. 

The kitchens were again in full operation ; cooks were busied 
preparing shadowy dishes, and roasting and boihng the phan- 
toms of pullets and partridges; servants were hurrying to and 
fro with silver dishes heaped up with dainties, and arranging 
a delicious banquet. The Court of Lions was thronged with 
guards, and courtiers, and alfaquis, as in the old times of the 
Moors ; and at the upper end in the saloon of judgment, sat 
Boabdil on his throne, surrounded by his court, and swaying a 
shadowy sceptre for the night. 

Notwithstanding all this throng and seeming bustle, not a 
voice or footstep was to be heard; nothiDg interrupted the mid- 
night sUence but the plashing of the fountains. The little 
Sanchica followed her conductress in mute amazement about 
the palace, until they came to a portal opening to the vaulted 
passages beneath the great tower of Comares. On each side of 
the portal sat the figure of a nymph, wrought out of alabaster. 
Their heads were turned aside, and their regards fixed upon the 
same spot within the vault. The enchanted lady paused, and 
beckoned the child to her. " Here," said she, "is a great se 
cret, which I will reveal to thee in reward for thy faith and 
courage. These discreet statues watch over a mighty treasure 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 105 

hidden in old times by a Moorish king. Tell tliy father to 
search the spot on which their eyes are fixed, and he will find 
what will make him richer than any man in Granada. Thy 
innocent hands alone, however, gifted as thou art also with the 
talisman, can remove the treasure. Bid thy father use it 
discreetly, and devote a part of it to the performance of 

i daily masses for my deliverance from this unholy enchant- 
ment." 

I| When the lady had spoken these words, she led the child 
onward to the little garden of Lindaraxa, which is hard by the 
vault of the statues. The moon trembled upon the waters of 
the solitary fountain in the centre of the garden, and shed a 
tender light upon the orange and citron trees. The beautiful 
lady plucked a branch of myrtle and wreathed it round the 
head of the child. "Let this be a memento," said she, "of 
what I have revealed to thee, and a testimonial of its truth. 
My hour is come.— I must return to the enchanted hall; follow 
me not, lest evil befall thee ; farewell, remember what I have 
said, and have masses performed for my deUverance. " So say- 
ing, the lady entered a dark passage leading beneath the tow- 
ers of Comares, and was no longer to be seen. 

The faint crowing of a cock was now heard from the cottages 
below the Alhambra, in the valley of the Darro, and a pale 
streak of hght began to appear above the eastern mountains. 

1 1 A slight wind arose; there was a sound like the rustling of dry 
leaves through the courts and corridors, and door after door 
shut to with a jarring sound. Sanchica returned to the scenes 
she had so lately beheld thronged with the shadowy multitude, 
but Boabdil and his phantom court were gone. 

i The moon shone into empty halls and galleries, stripped of 
their transient splendour, stained and dilapidated by time, and 
hung with cobwebs; the bat flitted about in the uncertain 

. hght, and the frog croaked from the fish-pond. 

I ! Sanchica now made the best of her Avay to a remote staircase 
that led up to the humble apartment occupied by her family. 
The door as usual was open, for Lope Sanchez was too poor to 
need bolt or bar : she crept quietly to her pallet, and, putting 
the myrtle wreath beneath her pillow, soon fell asleep. 

In the morning she related all that had befallen her to her 
father. Lope Sanchez, however, treated the whole as a mere 
iream, and laughed at the child for her credulity. ITe went 

, torth to his customary labours in the garden, but had not been 

i t)here long when his little daughter came running to him almost 



196 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

breathless. ''Father! father !" cried she, ''behold the myrtle 
wreath which the Moorish lady bound round my head." 

Lope Sanchez gazed with astonishment, for the stalk of the , 
myrtle was of pure gold, and every leaf was a sparkling emer- \ 
aid ! Being not much accustomed to precious stones, he was 
ignorant of the real value of the wreath, but he saw enough to 
convince liim that it was something more substantial than the; 
stuif that dreams are generally made of, and that at any rate 
the child had dreamt to some purpose. His first care was tc 
enjoin the most absolute secrecy upon his daughter; in this 
respect, however, he was secure, for she had discretion far be- 
yond her years or sex. He then repaired to the vault where 
stood the statues of the two alabaster nymphs. He remarked 
that their heads were turned from the portal, and that the re- 
gards of each were fixed upon the same point in the interior oi 
the building. Lope Sanchez could not but admire this mosi 
discreet contrivance for guarding a secret. He drew a line 
from the eyes of the statues to the point of regard, made a pri- 
vate mark on the wall, and then retired- 
All day, however, the mind of Lope Sanchez was distracted 
with a thousand cares. He could not help hovering within 
distant view of the two statues, and became nervous from the 
dread that the golden secret might be discovered. Every foot- 
step that approached the place, made him tremble. He would 
have given any thing could he but turn the heads of the statues, 
forgetting that they had looked precisely in the same directior 
for some hundreds of years, without any person being th( 
mser. "A plague upon them," he would say to himself, 
"they'll betray all. Did ever mortal hear of such a mod( 
of guarding a secret!" Then, on hearing any one advance, h( | 
would steal off, as though his very lurking near the place 
would awaken suspicions. Then he would return cautiously 
and peep from a distance to see if every thing was secure, bu1 
the sight of the statues would again call forth his indigna I 
tion. "Aye, there they stand," would he say, "always look : 
ing, and looking, and looking, just where they should not 
Confound them ! they are just like all their sex ; if they havf | 
not tongues to tattle with, they'll be sure to do it with thei . 
eyes !" | 

At length, to his relief, the long anxious day drew to a close 
The sound of footsteps was no longer heard in the echoing | 
halls of the Alhambra; the last stranger passed the threshold 
the great portal was barred and bolted, and the bat, and th( i 



LEGEND OF THE TWO VHSCUEKT .STATUE>'S. 197 

frog, and the hooting owl gradually resumed their nightly- 
vocations in the deserted palace. 

Lope Sanchez waited, however, until the night was far ad- 
vanced, before he ventin-ed with his little daughter to the hall 
of the two nymplis. He found them looking as knowingly and 
mysteriously as ever, at the secret place of deposit. "By your 
leaves, gentle ladies, " thought Lope Sanchez as he passed be- 
tween them, "I will relieve you from this charge that must 
have set so heavy in your minds for the last two or three cen- 
turies." He accordingly went to work at the part of the wall 
wliich he had marked, and in a little while laid open a con- 
cealed recess, in which stood two great jars of porcelain. He 
attempted to draw them foi-th, but they were immovable until 
touched by the innocent hand of his httle daughter. With her 
I aid he dislodged them from their niche, and found to liis great 
joy, that they were filled with pieces of Moorish gold, mingled 
with jewels and precious stones. Before dayhght he managed 
to convey them to his chamber, and left the two guardian 
statues with their eyes still fixed on the vacant wall. 

Lope Sanchez had thus on a sudden become a rich man, but 
riches, as usual, brought a world of cares, to wliich he had 
hitherto been a stranger. How was he to convey away his 
wealth with safety? How was he even to enter upon the en- 
joyment of it without awakening suspicion? Now too, for the 
first time in his life, the dread of robbers entered into his mind. 
JSe looked with terror at the insecurity of his habitation, 
\nd went to work to barricade the doors and windows; yet 
after all his precautions, he could not sleep soundly. His 
isual gaiety was at an end ; he had no longer a joke or a song 
'or his neighbours, and, in short, became the most miserable 
mimal in the Alhambra. His old comrades remarked this 
\lteration; pitied him heartily, and began to desert him, 
thinking he must be falHng into want, and in danger of look' 
ng to them for assistance ; little did they suspect that his only 
'alamity was riches. 

The wife of Lope Sanchez shared liis anxiety; but then she 
;iad ghostly comfort. We ought before this to have men- 
ioned, that Lope being rather a light, inconsiderate little man, 
lis wife was accustomed, in all grave matters, to seek the 
'ounsel and ministry of her confessor. Fray Simon, a sturdy, 
)road-shouldered, blue-bearded, bullet-headed - friar of the 
leighbouring convent of San Francisco, who was, in fact, the 
'. spiritual comforter of half the good wives of the neighl><)ur- 



198 THE ALIIAMBEA. j 

hood. He was, moreover, in great esteem among divers ^^ 
sisterhoods of nuns, who requited bim for his ghostly services P 
by frequent presents of those httle dainties and nicknacks '^ 
manufactured in convents, such as dehcate confections, sweet j 
biscuits, and bottles of spiced cordials, found to be marvellous i^ 
restoratives after fasts and vigils. j 

Fray Simon thrived in the exercise of his functions. His i' 
oily skin ghstened in the sunshine as he toiled up the hill of the ' 
Alhambra on a sultry day. Yet notwithstanding his sleek] 
condition, the knotted rope round his waist showed the au-;'' 
sterity of his self -discipline ; the multitude doffed their caps to (|: 
him as a mirror of piety, and even the dogs scented the odour , 
of sanctity that exhaled from his garments, and howled from I 
their kennels as he passed. |' 

Such was Fray Simon, the spiritual counsellor of the comely j!' 
wife of Lope Sanchez, and as the father confessor is the i 
domestic confidant of women in humble life in Spain, he was !' 
soon made acquainted, in great secrecy, with the story of the | 
hidden treasure. H 

The friar opened eyes and mouth, and crossed himself a f 
dozen times at the news. After a moment's pause, " Daughter ''^ 
of my soul !" said he, " know that thy husband has conmiitted : ■ 
a double sin, a sin against both state and church! The trea- 
sure he has thus seized upon for himself, being found in the '' 
royal domains, belongs of course to the crown ; but being in- 
fidel wealth, rescued, as it were, from the very fangs of Satan, '* 
should be devoted to the church. Still, however, the matter | 
may be accommodated. Bring hither the myrtle wreath." [ 

When the good father beheld it, his eyes twinkled more than \ 
ever, with admiration of the size and beauty of the emeralds, ij 
"Tliis," said he, "being the first fruits of this discovery, I 
should be dedicated to pious purposes. I will hang it up as ij 
a votive offering before the image of San Francisco in our I, 
chapel, and will earnestly pray to him, this very night, that i 
your husband be permitted to remain in quiet possession of ' 
your wealth," I 

The good dame was delighted to make her peace with li 
heaven at so cheap a rate, and the friar, putting the wreath ' 
under his mantle, departed with saintly steps towards his con- 'i 
vent. '( 

When Lope Sanchez came home, his wife told him what had 'i 
passed. He was excessively provoked, for he lacked his wife's 
devotion, and had for some time groaned in secret at the \ 



! LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. I99 

iomestic visitations of the friar. "Woman," said he, "what 
last thou done ! Thou hast put every thing at hazard by thy 
:attUng. " 

"What!" cried the good woman, "would you forbid my 
iisbui'thening my conscience to my confessor?" 

" No, wife! confess as many of your own sins as you please; 
)ut as to this money-digging, it is a sin of my own, and my 
sonscience is very easy under the weight of it." 

There was no use, however, in complaining ; the secret was 
old, and, like water spilled on the sand, was not again to be 
;athered. Their only chance was, that the friar would be dis- 
reet. 

The next day, while Lope Sanchez was abroad, there was an 
tumble knocking at the door, and Fray Simon entered with 
aeek and demure countenance. 

"Daughter," said he, "I have prayed earnestly to San 
l^ncisco, and he has heard my prayer. In the dead of the 
light the saint appeared to me in a dream, but with a frowning 
ppect. "Why," said he, "dost thou pray to me to dispense 
ith this treasure of the Gentiles, when thou seest the pov- 
rty of my chapel? Go to the house of Lope Sanchez, crave 
I my name a portion of the Moorish gold to furnish two 
mdlesticks for the main altar, and let him possess the residue 
I peace. ' " 

When the good woman heard of tliis vision, she crossed her- 
5lf with awe, and going to the secret place where Lope had 
id the treasure, she filled a great leathern purse with pieces 
: Moorish gold, and gave it to the friar. The pious monk be- 
owed upon her in return, benedictions enough, if paid by 
javen, to enrich her race to the latest posterity ; then slip- 
ng the purse into the sleeve of his habit, he folded his hands 
X)n his breast, and departed with an air of humble thankfiil- 



When Lope Sanchez heard of this second donation to the 
urch, he had well nigh lost his senses. " Unfortunate man," 
led he, "what will become of me? I shall be robbed by 
pcemeal; I shall be ruined and brought to beggaiy !" 
It was with the utmost difficulty that his wife could pacify 
m by reminding him of the countless wealth that yet re- 

I lined; and how considerate it was for San Francisco to rest 

tntented with so very small a portion. 
Unluckily, Fray Simon had a number cl poor relations to be 

tovided for, not to mention some half dozen sturdy, bullet- 



200 Tim ALUAMBEA. 

headed orphan children and destitute foundHngs, that he had 
taken under his care. He repeated his visits, therefore, from 
day to day, with sakitations on behalf of Saint Dominick, Saint 
Andrew, Saint James, until poor Lope was driven to despair, 
and found that, unless he got out of the reach of this holy friar, 
he should have to make peace offerings to every saint in the 
kalendar. He determined, therefore, to pack up his remaining 
wealth, beat a secret retreat in the night, and make off to 
another part of the kingdom. 

Full of his project, he bought a stout mule for the pm-pose, 
and tethered it in a gloomy vault, underneath the tower of the 
Seven Floors. The very place from whence the Bellado, or 
goblin horse without a head, is said to issue forth at midnight 
and to scour the streets of Granada, pursued by a pack of hell- 
hounds. Lope Sanchez had little faith in the story, but availed 
liimself of the dread occasioned by it, knowing that no one 
would be likely to pry into the subterranean stable of the phan- 
tom steed. He sent off his family in the course of the day, with 
orders to wait for liim at a distant village of the Vega. As the 
night advanced, he conveyed his treasure to the vault under 
the tower, and having loaded his mule, he led it forth, and 
cautiously descended the dusky avenue. j 

Honest Lope had taken his measures with the utmost secrecy, 
imparting them to no one but the faithful wife of liis bosom. , 
By some miraculous revelation, however, they became known 
to Fray Simon ; the zealous friar beheld these infidel treasures 
on the point of shpping for ever out of his grasp, and deter- 
mined to have one more dash at them for the benefit of the 
church and San Francisco. Accordingly, when the bells had 
rimg for animas, and all the Alhambra was quiet, he stole out 
of his convent, and, descending through the gate of Justice, 
concealed himself among the thickets of roses and laurels that 
border the great avenue. Here he remained, counting the 
quarters of hours as they were sounded on the bell of tho 
watch-tower, and listening to the dreary hootings of owls, and 
the distant barking of dogs from the gipsy caverns. 

At length, he heard the tramp of hoofs, and, through the 
gloom of the overshadowing trees, imperfectly beheld a steed 
descending the avenue. The sturdy friar chuckled at the idea 
of the knowing turn he was about to serve honest Lope. Tuck- 
ing up the skirts of his habit, and wriggling like a cat watching 
a mouse, he waited imtil his prey was directly before him, 
when darting forth from his leafy covert, and putting one hand 



p 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCRKKT STATUES. 201 

on ine shoulder, and the other on the crupper, he made a vault 

I that would not have dis^a-aced the most experienced master of 

' equitation, and aliglited well forlced astride the steed. " Aha !" 

said the sturdy friar, "we shall now see who best understands 

i the game." 

He had scarce uttered the words, when the mule began to 
kick and rear and plunge, and then set off at full speed^down 
the hill. The friar attempted to check him, but in vain. He 
bounded from rock to rock, and bush to bush ; the friar's habit 
was torn to ribands, and fluttered in the wind; his shaven poll 
received many a hard knock from the branches of the trees, 
and many a scratch from the brambles. To add to liis terror 
and distress, he found a pack of seven hounds in full cry at his 
heels, and perceived, too late, that he was actually mounted 
upon the terrible Bellado ! 

Away they went, according to the ancient phrase, "pull 
devil, pull friar," down the great avenue, across the Plaza 
Nueva, along the Zacatin, around the Vivarambla,— never did 
huntsman and hound make a more furious run, or more infer- 
'lal uproar. 

In vain did the friar invoke every saint in the kalendar, and 
ilie holy virgin into the bargain; every time he mentioned a 
lame of the kind, it was hko a fresh application of the spur, 
ind made the Bellado bound as high as a house. Through the 
•emainder of the night was the unlucky Fray Simon carried 
lither and thither and whither he would not, until every bone 
Q his body ached, and he suffered a loss of leather too grievous 
be mentioned. At length, the crowing of a cock gave the 
ignal of returning day. At the sound, the goblin steed wheeled 
bout, and galloped back for his tower. Again he scoured the 
^ivarambla, the Zacatin, the Plaza Nueva, and the avenue of 
ountains, the seven dogs yelling and barking, and leaping up, 
nd snapping at the heels of the terrified friar. The first streak 
f day had just appeared as they reached the tower; here the 
oblm steed kicked up his heels, sent the friar a somerset 
u-ough the air, plunged into the dark vault followed by the 
tfemal pack, and a profound silence succeeded to the late 
3afening clamour. 

Was ever so diabolical a trick played off upon holy friar? 

peasant going to his labours at early dawn, found the unfor- 
mate Fray Simon lying under a fig-tree at the foot of the 

wer, but so bruised and bedeviled, that he could neither 
Jieak nor move. Ho was conveyed with all care and tender- 



202 THE ALHAMBRA. 

ness to his cell, and the story went that he had been waylaid 
and maltreated by robbers. A day or two elapsed before he 
recovered the use of his limbs : he consoled himself in the mean 
time, with the thoughts that though the mule with the treasure 
had escaped him, he had previously had some rare pickings at 
the infidel spoils. His first care on being able to use his hmbs, 
was to search beneath his pallet, where he had secreted the^ 
myrtle wreath and the leathern pouches of gold, extracted fromi 
the piety of dame Sanchez. What was his dismay at finding? 
the wreath, in effect, but a withered branch of myrtle, and th3 
leathern pouches filled with sand and gravel ! 

Fray Simon, with all liis chagrin, had the discretion to holdi 
his tongue, for to betray the secret might draw on him the( 
ridicule of the public, and the punishment of Ms superior; itl 
was not until many years afterwards, on his death-bed, that he 
revealed to his confessor his nocturnal ride on the Bellado. 

Nothing was heard of Lope Sanchez for a long time after his 
disappearance from the Alhambra. His memory was always 
cherished as that of a merry companion, though it was feared, 
from the care and melancholy showed in his conduct shortly j 
before his mysterious departure, that poverty and distress had 
driven him to some extremity. Some years afterwards, one of 1 
his old companions, an invalid soldier, being at Malaga, was 
knocked down and nearly run over by a coach and six. The 
carriage stopped; an old gentleman, magnificently dressed, , 
with a bag-\\dg and sword, stepped out to assist the poor m- 
valid. What was the astonishment of the latter to behold m ( 
this grand cavaher, his old friend Lope Sanchez, who was actu 
ally celebrating the marriage of his daughter Sanchica, witl]:| 
one of the first grandees in the land. j 

The carriage contained the bridal party. There was damf I 
Sanchez now grown as round as a barrel, and dressed out witt | 
feathers and jewels, and necklaces of pearls, and necklaces o\ ^ 
diamonds, and rings on every finger, and altogether a finery o]| 
apparel that had not been seen since the days of Queen Sheba : 
The little Sanchica had now grown to be a woman, and fo^j 
grace and beauty might have been mistaken for a duchess, r 
not a princess outright. The bridegroom sat beside her, rather ! 
a withered, spindle-shanked little man, but this only prove( j 
him to be of the true blue blf^od, a legitimate Spanish grander 
being rarely above three cubits in stature. The match had beeli 
of the mother's making. ' 

Eiches had not spoiled the heart of honest Lope. He kep'l 



MA HAMAD ABEN ALAIIMAR. 20J 

his old comrade with him for several days; feasted him hke 
J a king, took him to ])lays and biill-fights, and at length sent 
Ihmi away rejoicing, witli a big bag of money for himself, and 
[lanother to be distributed among his ancient messmates of the 
[Alhambra. 

Lope always gave out that a rich brother had died in 
I America, and loft him heir to a copper mine, but the shrewd 
gossips of the Alhambra insist that his wealth was all derived 
from his having discovered the secret guarded by the two 
marble nymphs of the Alhambra. It is remarked, that these 
rcry discreet statues continue even unto the present day with 
:lKir eyes fixed most significantly on the same part of the 
.vail, which leads many to suppose there is stiU some hidden 
treasure remammg there, weU worthy the attention of the 
enterprising traveller. Though others, and particularly aU 
emaie visitors, regard them with great complacency as last- 
lu? monuments of the fact, that women can keep a secret 



MAHAMAD ABEN ALAHMAR: 

j THE FOUNDER OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

i Having dealt so freely in the marvellous legends of the 
(Llhambra, I feel as if bound to give the reader a few facts 
oncermng its sober history, or rather the history of those 
aagmficent princes, its founder and finisher, to whom Eu- 
ope is indebted for so beautiful and romantic an oriental 
aonument. To attain these facts, I descended from this re- 
lon of fancy and fiction, where everything is liable to take an 
naginative tint, and carried my researches among the dusty 
ames of the old Jesuit's library in the university.' This once 
oasted repository of emdition is now a mere shadow of its 
)rmer self, having been stripped of its manuscripts and rarest 
'orks by the French, while masters of Granada. Still it con- 
ims, among many ponderous tomes of polemics of the Jesuit 
ithers, several curious tracts of Spanish literature, and above 
U, a number of those antiquated, dusty, parchment-bound 
iromcles, for which I have a peculiar veneration. 
In this old library I have passed many delightful hours of 
met, undisturbed, literary foraging, for the keys of the doors 



204 ^'^^^ ALIIAMBRA, 

and bookcases were kindly entrusted to me, and I was left 
alone to rummage at my leisure— a rare indulgence in those 
sanctuaries of learning, which too often tantalize the thirsty 
student with the sight of sealed fountains of knowledge. 

In the course of these visits I gleaned the following particu- 
lars concerning the historical characters in question. 

The Moors of Granada regarded the Alhambra as a miracle 
of art, and had a tradition that the king who founded it dealt 
in magic, or at least was deeply versed in alchymy, by means 
of which, he procured the immense sums of gold expended in 
its erection. A brief view of his reign wlQ show the real secret 
of his wealth. 

The name of this monarch, as inscribed on the walls of som^ 
of the apartments, was Aben Abd'allah {i.e. the father oi 
AbdaJlah), but he is commonly known in Moorish history as 
Mahamad x^ben Alahmar (or Mahamad son of Alahmar), oi, 
simply Aben Alahmar, for the sake of brevity. i 

He was born in Arjona, in the year of the Hegira, 591, of the ; 
Chi-istian era, 1195, of the noble family of the Beni Nasar, oi 
children of Nasar, and no expense was spared by his parents 
to fit him for the high station to which the opulence and 
dignity of his family entitled him. The Saracens of Spain; 
were greatly advanced in civilization. Every principal city 
was a seat of learning and the arts, so that it was easy to com- 
mand the most enlightened instructors for a youth of rant 
and fortune. Aben Alahmar, when he arrived at manly years. 
was appointed Alcayde or governor of Arjona and Jaen, and 
gained great popularity by his benignity and justice. Som( 
years afterwards, on the death of Aben Hud, the Moorisl i 
power of Spain was broken into factions, and many places j 
declared for Mahamad Aben Alahmar. Being of a sanguine I 
i spirit and lofty ambition, he seized upon the occasion, made £ I 
circuit through the country, and was every where receiver i 
with acclamation. It was in the year 1238 that he enterec I 
Granada amidst the enthusiastic shouts of the multitude. H( 
was proclaimed king with every demonstration of joy, anc 
soon became the head of the Moslems in Spain, being the firs | 
of the illustrious line of Beni Nasar that had sat upon th'i 
throne. :j 

His reign was such as to render him a blessing to his sub \ 
jects. He gave the command of his various cities to such as 
had distinguished themselves by valour and prudence, anc 
who seemed most acceptable to the peoplCc He organized £i,j 



MAIIAMAD ABEN ALAIIMAR. 205 

ngilant police, and established rigid niles for the administra- 
;ion of justice. The poor and the distressed always found 
•eady admission to his presence, and he attended personoDy 
K) their assistance and redress. He erected hospitals for the 
)Hnd, the aged, and infirm, and all those incapable of labour, 
md visited them frequently, not on set days, with pomp and 
orm, so as to give time for every thing to be put in order and 
ivery abuse concealed, but suddenly and unexpectedly, in- 
orming himself by actual observation and close inquiry of the 
reatment of the sick, and the conduct of those appointed to 
administer to their rehef . 

He founded schools and colleges, which he visited in the 
iame manner, inspecting personaUy the instruction of the 
'outh. He established butcheries and public ovens, that the 
♦eople might be furnished with wholesome provisions at just 
,nd regular prices. He introduced abundant streams of water 
ito the city, erecting baths and fountains, and constructing 
queducts and canals to irrigate and fertilize the Vega. By 
hese means, prosperity and abundance prevailed in this beau- 
iful city, its gates were thronged mth commerce, and its 
rarehouses filled with the luxuries and merchandize of every 
lime and coimtry. 

While Mahamad Aben Alahmar was ruling his fair domains 
lus wisely and prosperously, he was suddenly menaced by 
le horrors of war. The Christians at that time, profiting 
y the dismemberment of the Moslem power, were rapidly 
egaining their ancient territories. James the Conqueror had 
ibjected all Valentia, and Ferdinand the Saint was carrying 
is victorious armies into Andalusia. The latter invested the 
ity of Jaen, and swore not to raise his camp until he had 
ained possession of the place. Mahamad Aben Alahmar was 
3nscious of the insufliciency of his means to carry on a war 
ith the potent sovereign of Castile. Taking a sudden resolu- 
on, therefore, he repaired privately to the Christian camp, 
lid made his unexpected appearance in the presence of king 
erdinand. "In me," said he, "you behold Mahamad, king 
I Granada. I confide in your good faith, and put myself 
nder your protection. Take all I possess, and receive me as 
our vassal." So saying, he knelt and kissed the king's hand 
1 token of submission. 

King Ferdinand was touched by this instance of confiding 
ith, and determined not to be outdone in generosity. He 
lised his late rival from the earth and embraced him as a 



206 THE ALUAMBBA. 



i 



friend, nor would he accept the wealth he offered, but receive 
him as a vassal, leaving him sovereign of his dominions, on 
condition of paying a yearly tribute, attending the cortes as 
one of the nobles of the empire, and serving him in war with 
a certain number of horsemen. 

It was not long after this that Mahamad was called upon for 
his military services, to aid king Ferdinand in his famous siege 
of Seville. The Moorish king sallied forth with five hundred 
chosen horsemen of Granada, than whom none in the world 
knew better how to manage the steed or wield the lance. It 
was a melancholy and humiliating service, however, for they 
had to draw the sword against their brethren of the faith. 
Mahamad gained a melancholy distinction by his prowess in this 
renowned conquest, but more true honour by the humanity 
which he prevailed upon Ferdinand to introduce into the usages 
of war. When in 1248, the famous city of Seville surrendered to 
the Castihan monarch, Mahamad returned sad and full of care 
to his dominions. He saw the gathering ills that menaced the 
Moslem cause, and uttered an ejaculation often used by him 
in moments of anxiety and trouble: "How straitened and 
wretched would be our life, if our hope were not so spacious 
and extensive."* 

When the melancholy conqueror approached his beloved 
Granada, the people thronged forth to see him with impatieni 
joy, for they loved him as a benefactor. They had erected 
arches of triumph in honour of his martial exploits, and wher 
ever he passed he was hailed with acclamations, as El Galih 
or the conqueror ; Mahamad shook his head when he heard th( 
appellation, "TFa le Galih He Aid,'''' exclaimed he: (there is n( 
conqueror but God !) From that time forward, he adopted this 
exclamation as a motto. He inscribed it on an oblique banc 
across his escutcheon, and it continued to be the motto of hi:! 
descendants. ' 

Mahamad had purchased peace by submission to the Chris 
tian yoke, but he knew that where the elements were so dis 
cordant, and the motives for hostility so deep and ancient, i 
could not be secure or permanent. Acting therefore upon ai 
old maxim, " arm thyself in peace, and clothe thyself in sure, 
mer," he improved the present interval of tranquillity by foi 
tifying his dominions and replenishing his arsenals, and by 



* " Que angoste y miserabile seria nuestra vida, sino fuera tan dilatada y espaciob 
nuestra esperanza 1" 



MAUAMAD ABEN A L All MAR. 207 

promoting those useful arts which give wealth and real power 
to an empire. He gave premiums and privileges to the best 
artisans; improved the breed of horses and other domestic 
animals; encouraged husbandry; and increased the natural 
fertihty of the sod twofold by his protection, making the lonely 
valleys of his kingdom to bloom hke gardens. He fostered also 
the growth and fabrication of silk, until the looms of Granada 
surpassed even those of Syria in the fineness and beauty of 
bheir productions. He, moreover, caused the mines of gold 
ind silver, and other metals found in the mountainous regions 
3f his dominions, to be diligently worked, and was the first 
king of Granada who struck money of gold and silver with his 
aame, taking great care that the coins should be skillfully exe- 
cuted. 

It was about this time, towards the middle of the thirteenth 
3entury, and just after his return from the siege of Seville, 
:hat he commenced the splendid palace of the Alhambra: 
juperintf^nding the building of it in person, mingling frequently 
unong the artists and workmen, and directing their labours. 

Though thus magnificent in his works, and great in his enter- 
prises, he was simple in his person, and moderate in his enjoy- 
nents. His dress was not merely void of splendour, but so 
)lain as not to distinguish him from his subjects. His harem 
)oasted but few beauties, and these he visited but seldom, 
hough they were entertained with great magnificence. His 
vives were daughters of the principal nobles, and were treated 
)y him as friends and rational companions ; what is more, he 
nanaged to make them live as friends with one another. 
' He passed much of his time in his gardens ; especially in 
hose of the Alhambra, which he had stored with the rarest 
>lants, and the most beautiful and aromatic flowers. Here he 
■> ieUghted himself in reading histories, or in causing them to be 
ead and related to him ; and sometimes, in intervals of leisure, 
mployed himself in the instruction of his three sons, for whom 
le had provided the most learned and virtuous masters. 

As he had frankly and voluntarily offered himself a tributary 
'assal to Ferdinand, so he always remained loyal to his word, 
iving him repeated proofs of fidehty and attachment. When 
hat renowned monarch died in Seville, in 1254, Maliamad Aben 
dahmar sent ambassadors to condole with his successor, 
donzo X., and with them a gallant train of a hundred Moorish 
avaliers of distinguished rank, who were to attend, each bear- 
ig a lighted taper round the royal bier, during the funeral 



208 THE ALHAMBRA, 

ceremonies. This grand testimonial of respect was repeated 
by the Moslem monarch during the remainder of his life, on 
each anniversary of the death of King Fernando el Santo, when 
the hundred Moorish knights repaired from Granada to Seville, 
and took their stations with hghted tapers in the centre of the 
sumptuous cathedral round the cenotaph of the illustrious de- 
ceased. 

Mahamad Aben .AJahmar retained his faculties and vigour 
to an advanced age. In his seventy-ninth year he took the 
field on horseback, accompanied by the flower of his chivalry,, 
to resist an invasion of his territories. As the army saUied 
forth from Granada, one of the principal adalides or guides, , 
who rode in the advance, accidentally broke his lance against! 
the arch of the gate. The counsellors of the king, alarmed by 
this circumstance, which was considered an evil omen, en- 
treated him to return. Their supplications were in vain. The 
king persisted, and at noon-tide the omen, say the Moorish 
chroniclers, was fatally fulfilled. Mahamad was suddenly 
struck with illness, and had nearly fallen from his horse. He 
was placed on a fitter, and borne back towards Granada, but 
his illness increased to such a degree, that they were obliged to 
pitch his tent in the Vega. His physicians were fiUed with 
consternation, not knowing what remedy to prescribe. In a 
few hours he died vomiting blood, and in violent convulsions. 
The Castilian prince, Don Phifip, brother of Alonzo X., was by 
his side when he expired. His body was embalmed, enclosed 
in a silver coffin, and buried in the Alhambra, in a sepulchre 
of precious marble, amidst the unfeigned lamentations of his 
subjects, who bewailed him as a parent. 

Such was the enlightened patriot prince, who founded the 
Alhambra, whose name remains emblazoned among its most 
delicate and graceful ornaments, and whose memory is calcu- 
lated to inspire the loftiest associations in those who tread these 
fading scenes of his magnificence and glory. Though his un- 
dertakings were vast, and his expenditures immense, yet his 
treasury was always full ; and this seeming contradiction gave 
rise to the story that he was versed in magic art and possessed 
of the secret for transmuting baser metals into gold. 

Those who have attended to his domestic policy, as here set 
forth, will easily understand the natural magic and simple 
alchymy which made his ample treasury to overflow. 



JUSEF ABUL UAGIAS. 200 



i JUSEF ABUL HAGIAS: 

i THE FINISHER OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

Beneath the governor's apartment in the Alhambra is the 
?oyal Mosque, where the Moorish monarchs performed their 
private devotions. Though consecrated as a Cathohc chapel, 
it still bears traces of its Moslem origin ; the Saracenic columns 
^th their gilded capitals, and the latticed gallery for the 
females of the harem, may yet be seen, and the escutcheons of 
he Moorish kings are muigled on the walls with those of the 
uJastilian sovereigns. 

In this consecrated place perished the illustrious Jusef Abul 
Jagias, the high-minded prince who completed the Alhambra, 
pd who, for his virtues and endowments, deserves almost 
qual renown with its magnanimous founder. It is with pleas- 
ire I draw forth from the obscurity in which it has too long 
emained, the name of another of those princes of a departed 
nd almost forgotten race, who reigned in elegance and splen- 
iour in Andalusia, when all Europe was in comparative bar- 
arism. 

Jusef Abul Hagias (or, as it is sometimes written, Haxis) 
ficended the throne of Granada in the year 1333, and his per- 
onal appearance and mental qualities were such as to win all 
learts, and to awaken anticipations of a beneficent and pros- 
erous reign. He was of a noble presence and great bodily 
brength, united to manly beauty. His complexion was ex- 
eeding fair, and, according to the Arabian chroniclers, he 
eightened the gravity and majesty of his appearance by suf- 
)ring his beard to grow to a dignified length, and dyeing it 
lack. He had an excellent memory, well stored with science 
nd erudition; he was of a lively genius, and accounted the 
est poet of his time, and his manners weve gentle, affable, and 
rbane. 

Jusef possessed the courage common to all generous spirits, 
ut his genius was more calculated for peace than war, and, 
lOugh obliged to take up arms repeatedlj^ in his time, he was 
enerally unfortunate. He carried the benignity of his nature 

ito warfare, prohibiting all wanton cruelty, and enjoining 

lercy and protection towards women and children, the aged 



210 THE ALHAMBRA. 

and infirm, and all friars and persons of holy and recluse life. 
Among other ill-starred enterprises, he undertook a great cam- 
paign in conjunction with the king of Morocco, against the 
kings of Castile and Portugal, but was defeated in the memor- 
able battle of Salado ; a disastrous reverse which had nearly- 
proved a death blow to the Moslem power in Spain. 

Jusef obtained a long truce after this defeat, during which 
Uime he devoted himself to the instruction of his people and the 
improvement of their morals and manners. For this purpose 
he established schools in all the villages, with simple and uni- 
form systems of education ; he obliged every hamlet of moret 
than twelve houses to have a Mosque, and prohibited various 
abuses and indecoriuns, that had been introduced into the cere- 
monies of religion, and the festivals and public amusements of 
the people. He attended vigilantly to the pohce of the city, 
estabhshing nocturnal guards and patrols, and superintending 
all municipal concerns. 

His attention was also directed towards finishing the great 
architectural works commenced by his predecessors, and erect- 
ing others on his own plans. The Alhambra, which had been 
founded by the good Aben Alahmar, was now completed. 
Jusef constructed the beautiful gate of Justice, forming the 
grand entrance to the fortress, which he finished in 1348. He 
likewise adorned many of the courts and halls of the palace, as 
maybe seen by the inscriptions on the walls, in which his name 
repeatedly occurs. He built also the noble Alcazar, or citadel 
of Malaga ; now unfortunately a mere mass of crumbling ruins, 
but which probably exhibited in its interior similar elegance 
and magnificence with the Alhambra. 

The genius of a sovereign stamps a character upon his time. 
The nobles of Granada, imitating the elegant and graceful taste 
of Jusef, soon filled the city of Granada with magnificent pal- 
aces ; the halls of which were paved in Mosaic, the walls and 
ceilings wrought in fret-work, and delicately gilded and painted 
with azure, vermilion, and other brilliant colours, or minutely 
inlaid with cedar and other precious woods ; specimens of which 
have survived in all their lustre the lapse of several centuries. 

Many of the houses had fountains, which threw up jets of 
water to refresh and cool the air. They had lofty towers also, 
of wood or stone, curiously carved and ornamented, and cov- 
ered with plates of metal that glittered in the sun. Such was 
the refined and delicate taste in architecture that prevailed 
among this elegant people; insomuch, that to use the beautiful 



JUSEP ABUL UAGIAS. 211 

simile cf an Arabian writer, "Granada, in the days of Jusef, 
was as a silver vase filled with emeralds and jacinths." 

One anecdote will be sufficient to show the magnanimity of 
this generous prince. The long truce which had succeeded the 
battle of Salado was at an end, and every effort of Jusef to 
i-encw it was in vain. His deadly foe, Alfonso XI. of Castile, 
book the field with great force, and laid siege to Gibraltar. 
Jusef reluctantly took up arms, and sent troops to the rehef of 
the place ; when, in the midst of his anxiety, he received tidings 
that his dreaded foe had suddenly fallen a victim to the plague, 
tnstead of manifesting exultation on the occasion, Jusef called 
bo mind the great qualities of the deceased, and was touched 
with a noble sorrow. "Alas!" cried he, "the world has lost 
Dne of its most excellent princes; a sovereign who knew how 
to honour merit, whether in friend or foe !" 

The Spanish chroniclers themselves bear witness to this mag- 
nanimity. According to their accounts, the Moorish cat^aliers 
partook of the sentiment of their king, and put on mourning 
or the death of Alfonso. Even those of Gibraltar, who had 
jeen so closely invested, when they knew that the hostile mon- 
arch lay dead in his camp, determined among themselves that 
ao hostile movement should be made against the Christians. 

The day on which the camp was broken up, and the army 
ieparted, bearing the corpse of Alfonso, the Moors issued in 
multitudes from Gibraltar, and stood mute and melanchol}^ 
snatching the mournful pageant. The same reverence for the 
ieceased was observed by all the Moorish commandei*s on the 
frontiers, who suffered the tuneral train to pass in safety, 
l)earing the corpse of the Christian sovereign from Gibraltar to 
Seville.* 

Jusef did not long survive the enemy he had so generously 
ieplored. In the year 1354, as he was one day praying in the 
poyal mosque of the Alhambra, a maniac rushed suddenly 
Erom behind, and plunged a dagger in his side. The cries of 
the king brought his guards and courtiers to his assistance. 
rhey found him weltering in his blood, and in convulsions. 
He was borne to the roj^al apartments, but expired almost im- 



♦ " Y los Moros que estaban en la villa y Castillo de Gibfaltar despiies que sopieron 
lue el Rey Don Alonzo era muerto, ordenaron entresi que ningnno non fuesse 
)sadode fazer ningun movimiento contra los Christianos, nin mover pelear contra 
alios, estovieron todos quedos y dezian entre ellos que aquel dja muriera un noblu 
■ey y gran princjpe del mundoJ" 



212 TEE ALUAMBBA. 

mediately. The murderer was cut to pieces, and his limbs 
burnt in public, to gratify the fury of the populace. 

The body of the king was interred in a superb sepulchre of 
white marble ; a long epitaph in letters of gold upon an azure 
ground recorded his virtues. " Here lies a king and martyr of 
an illustrious line, gentle, learned and virtuous ; renowned for 
the graces of his person and his manners; whose clemency, 
piety and benevolence were extolled throughout the kingdom 
of Granada. He was a great prince, an illustrious captain ; a i. 
sharp sword of the Moslems ; a vahant standard-bearer among 
the most potent monarchs," etc. 

The mosque still remains, which once resounded with the 
dying cries of Jusef, but the monument Avhich recorded his 
virtues has long since disappeared. His name, however, re- 
mains inscribed among the ornaments of the Alhambra, and 
will be perpetuated in connection with this renowned pile, 
which "it was his pride and delight to beautify. 



THE END. 



THE 



CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 



BY 



WASHINGTON IRVING, 



NEW YORK : 

WORTHINGTON CO. 
747 Broadway. 



1-^1?- 1 



TROWS 

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY, 

NEW YORK. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 



COINTTEJ^TS. 



VOLUME I. 

CHAPTER PAGK 

Introduction 3 

I. Of the Kingdom of Granada, and the Tribute which it paid to the 

CastUian Crown 7 

II. How the Catholic Sovereigns sent to demand Arrears of Tribute of 

the Moor, and how the Moor replied 10 

III. How the Moor determined to strike the First Blow in War 13 

IV. Expedition of Muley Aben Hassan, against the Fortress of Zahara. . . 15 

V. Expedition of the Marques of Cadiz against Alhama 18 

VI. How the People of Granada were affected on hearing of the Capture 

of Alhama, and how the Moorish King sallied forth to regain it 25 

VII. How the Duke of Medina Sidonia, and the CUvalry of Andalusia, 

hastened to the Relief of Alhama. 31 

Vin. Sequel of the Events at Alhama 34 

IX. Events at Granada, and Rise of the Moorish King Boabdil el Chico. . . 38 

X. Royal Expedition against Loxa 42 1 

XI. How Muley Aben Hassan made a Foray into the Lands of Medina f 

Sidonia, and how he was received 48 

Xn. Foray of Spanish Cavaliers among the Mountains of Malaga 53 

Xin. Effects of the Disasters among the Mountains of Malaga 63 

Xrv. How King Boabdil el Chico marched over the Border G6 

XV. Kow the Count de Cabra sallied forth from his Castle in quest of 

King Boabdil 69 

XVI. The Battle of Lucena 73 

XVn. Lamentations of the Moors for the Battle of Lucena 78 

XVni. How Muley Aben Hassan profited by the Misfortunes of his Son 

Boabdil 81 

XIX. Captivity of Boabdil el Chico 83 



2 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XX. Treatment of Boabdil by the Castilian Sovereigns 8<^ 

XXI. Return of Boabdil from Captiyity 88 

XXn. Foray of the Moorish Alcaydes, and the Battle of Lopera 9:^ 

XXni. Retreat of Hamet el Zegri, Alcayde of Ronda 99 

XXIV. Of the Reception at Court of the Count de Cabra and the Alcayde de 

los Donzeles 102 

XXV. How the Marquis of Cadiz concerted to surprise Zahara and the 

Result of his Enterprise 105 

XXVI. Of the Fortress of Alhama, and how wisely it was governed by the 

Count de Tendilla 109 

XXVII. Foray of Christian Knights into the Territory of the Moors 114 

XXVin. Attempt of El Zagal to surprise Boabdil in Almeria 118 

XXIX. How Ferdinand commenced another Campaign against the Moors, 

and how he laid Siege to Coinann Cartama 121 

XXX. SiegeofRonda 125 

XXXI. How the People of Granada invited El Zagal to the Throne, and how 

he marched to the Capital 129 

XXXII. How the Coimt de Cabra attempted to capture another King, and how 

he fared in his Attempt 133 

XXXm. Expedition against the Castles of Cambil and Albahar 138 

XXXIV. Enterprise of the Knights of Calatrava against Zalea 144 

XXXV. Death of Muley Aben Hassan 147 

XXXVI. Of the Christian Army which assembled at the City of Cordova 150 

XXXVn. How fresh Commotions broke out in Granada, and how the People 

midertook to allay them 155 

IXXVin. How King Ferdinand held a Council of War, at the Rock of the 

Lovers 157 

XXXIX How the Royal Army appeared before the City of Loxa, and how it 

was received, and of the doughty Achievements of the English Earl 160 

XL. Conclusion of the Siege of Loxa 164 

; XLI. Capture of mora 166 ij 

XLH. Of the Arrival of Queen Isabella at the Camp before Moclin, and. of 

the'pleasant Sayings of the English Earl ; . . 16 

yrJ TT. How King Ferdinand attacked Moclin, and of the strange Events 

that attended its Capture ITS ':; 

XLIV. How King Ferdinand foraged the Vega, and of the Battle of the 

Bridge of Pinos, and the Fate of the two Moorish Brothers 175 3 

XLV. Attemint of El Zagal upon the Life of Boabdil, and how the Latter 
I was roused to Action ..,, 180 



CONTENTS. 



VOLUME II. 

CHAPTKB PAOB 

I. How Boabdil returned secretly to Granada, and how he was received 183 
II. How King Ferdinand laid Siege to Velez Malaga 185 

III. How King Ferdinand and his Army were exposed to imminent Peril 

before the Velez Malaga 192 

IV. Result of the Stratagem of El Zagal to sui-prise King Ferdinand 196 

V. How the People of Granada rewarded the Valor of El Zagal 199 

VI. Surrender of Velez Malaga and other Places 201 

VII. Of the City of Malaga, and its Inhabitants. Mission of Hernando del 

Pulgar 204 

Vni. Advance of King Ferdinand against Malaga 208 

IX. Siege of Malaga 211 

X. Siege of Malaga, continued. Obstinacy of Hamet el Zegri 213 

XI. Attack of the Marquis of Cadiz upon Gibralfaro 216 

XII. Siege of Malaga, continued. Stratagems of various kinds 218 

XHI. Sufferings of the People of Malaga 221 

XLV. How a Moorish Santon undertook to deliver the City of Malaga from 

the Power of its Enemies 224 

XV. How Hamet el Zegri was hardened in his Obstinacy by the Arts of a 

Moorish Astrologer 227 

XVI. Siege of Malaga, continued. Destruction of a Tower, by Francisco 

Ramirez de Madrid 230 

XVII. How the People of Malaga expostulated with Hamet el Zegri 231 

XVIII. How Hamet el Zegri sallied forth with the Sacred Banner, to attack 

the Christian Camp 234 

XIX. How the City of Malaga capitulated 237 

XX. Fulfillment of the Prophecy of the Dervise. Fate of Hamet el Zegri. 241 

XXI. How the Castilian Sovereigns took Possession of the City of Malaga, 
and how King Ferdinand signalized himself by his Skill in bargain- 
ing with the Inhabitants for their Ransom 243 

XXn. How King Ferdinand prepared to carry the War into a different Part 

of the Territories of the Moors 248 

XXHI. How King Ferdinand invaded the Eastern Side of the Kingdom of 

Granada, and how he was received by El Zagal 252 

XXrV. How the Moors made various Enterprises against the Christians 255 

XXV. How King Ferdinand prepared to besiege the City of Baza, and how 

the City prepared for Defence 257 

XXVI. The Battle of the Gardens before Baza 261 

XXVII. Siege of Baza. Embarrassments of the Army 265 

XXVIH, Siege of Baza, continued. How King Ferdinand completely invested 

the City 268 



CONTENTS, 



I 



CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIX. Exploit of Hernando Perez del Pulgar, and othe Cavaliers 270 

XXX. Continuation of the Siege of Baza 273 

XXXI. How two Friars arrived at the Camp, and how they came from the 

Holy Land 275 

XXXII. How Queen Isabella devised Means to supply the Army with provi- 
sions 280 

XXXIII. Of the Disasters which befell the Camp 282 

XXXIV. Encounters between the Christians and Moors before Baza, and the 

Devotion of the Inhabitants to the Defence of their City 285 

XXXV. How Queen Isabella arrived at the Camp, and the Consequences of 

her Arrival 287 

XXXVI. Surrender of Baza 290 

XXXVn. Submission of El Zagal to the Castilian Sovereigns , . . . 295 

XXXVIII. Events of Granada, subsequent to the Submission of El Zagal 298 

XXXIX. How King Ferdinand turned his Hostilities against the City of 

Granada 303 

XL. The Fate of the Castle of Roma 306 

XLI. How Boabdil el Chico took the Field, and his Expedition against 

Alhendin 309 

XLH. Exploit of the Count de Tendilla 311 

XLHI. Expedition of Boabdil el Chico against Salobrena. Exploit of Her- 
nando Perez del Pulgar 314 

XLIV. How King Ferdinand treated the People of Guadix, and how El 

Zagal finished his Regal Career 319 

XLV. Preparations of Granada for a Desperate Defence 323 

XL VI. How King Ferdinand conducted the Siege cautiously, and how Queen 

Isabella arrived at the Camp 326 

XLVII. Of the Insolent Defiance of Yarfe the MooFj and the Daring Exploit 

of Hernando Perez del Pulgar 328 

XLVHI. 'RovT Queen Isabella took a View of the City of Granada, and how 

her Curiosity cost the Lives of many Christians and Moors 329 

XLIX. Conflagration of the Christian Camp 335 

L. The last Ravage before Granada 337 

LI. Building of the City of Santa Fe. l3espair of the Moors 340 

LH. Capitulation of Granada , 343 

TiTTT . Commotions in Granada 346 

LIV. Surrender of Granada 349 

LV. How the Castilian Sovereigns took Possession of Granada 352 

Appendix: 

Fate of Boabdil el Chico 355 

Death of the Marquis of Cadiz 358 

Legend of the Death of Don Alonzo de Aguilar 801 



I 



INTRODUCTION. 



Although the following Chronicle bears the name of the 
venerable Fray Antonio Agapida, it is rather a superstructure 
reared upon the fraginants which remain of his work. It may 
be asked, Who is this same Agapida, who is cited with such 
deference, yet wh«se name is not to be found in any of the 
catalogues of Spanish authors? The question is hard to an- 
swer : he appears to have been one of the many indefatigable 
f authors of Spain, who have filled the hbraries of convents and 
I cathedrals with their tomes, without ever dreaming of bring- 
j ing their labors to the press. He evidently was deeply and 
i accurately informed of the particulars of the wars between his 
if countrymen and the Moors— a tract of history but too much 
I overgroAvn with the weeds of fable. His glowing zeal, also, in 
the cause of the Catholic faith, entitles him to be held up as a 
model of the good old orthodox chroniclers, who recorded with 
such pious exultation the united triumphs of the cross and the 
sword. It is deeply to be regretted, therefore, that liis manu- 
jscripts, deposited in the libraries of various convents, have 
Ibeen dispersed during the late convulsions in Spain, so that 
nothing is now to be met of them but disjointed fragments. 
IThese, however, are too precious to be suffered to fall into 
JDblivion, as they contain many curious facts, not to be found 
n any other historian. In the following work, therefore, the 
"nanuscript of the worthy Fray Antonio will be adopted, 
Ivherevor it exists entire ; but will be filled up, extended, illus- 
'rated. and corroborated, by citations from various authors, 
both Spanish and Arabian, who have treated of the subject. 
?liose who may wish to know how far the work is indebted to 
he chronicle of Fray Antonio Agapida, may readily satisfy 
heir curiosity by referring to his manuscript fragments, which 
re carefully preserved in the library of the Escurial. 
Before entering upon the history, it may be as well to notice 



INTRODUCTION. 



the opinions of certain of the most learned and devout histori 
ographers of former times, relative to this war. 

Marinus Siculus, historian to Charles Y., pronounces it a 
war to avenge the ancient injuries received by the Christians 
from the Moors, to recover the kingdom of Granada, and to 
extend the name and honor of the Christian rehgion.* 
/ Estevan de Garibay, one of the most distinguished among 
jthe Spanish historians, regards the war as a special act of 
divine clemency towards the Moors; to the end that those 
barbarians and infidels, who had dragged out so many centu- 
ries under the dia^bolical oppression of the absurd sect of Ma- 
homet, should at length be reduced to the Christian faith, f 

Padre Mariana, also, a venerable Jesuit, and the most re- 
nowned historian of Spain, considers the past domination of the 
Moors as a scoiu*ge inflicted on the Spanish nation, for its ini- 
quities ; but the triumphant war with Granada, as the reward 
of Heaven for its great act of propitiation in estabhshing the 
glorious tribunal of the Inquisition! No sooner (says the 
worthy father) was this holy office opened in Spain, ^han there 
instantly shone forth a resplendent hght. Then it was, that, 
through divine favor, the nation increased in power, and be- 
came competent to overthrow and trample down the Moorish 
domination. X 

Having thus cited high and venerable authority fov consid- 
ering this Avar in the Hght of one of those pious enicerprises 
denominated crusades, we trust we have said enough to en- 
gage the Christian reader to follow us into the field, and to 
stand by us to the very issue of the encounter. 



* Lucio Marino Siculo. Cosas Memorabiles de EspaHa, lib. 20. 
t Garibay. Compend. Hist. Espaila, lib. 18, c. S3. 
J Mariana. Hist. Espafia. lib. S5, c. 1, 



\ 



A CHRONICLE 

OF 

THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA 



CHAPTER I. 



OP THE KINGDOM OP GRANADA, AND THE TRIBUTE WHICH IT 
PAID TO THE CASTILIAN CROWN. 

The history of those bloody and disastrous wars, which have 
3aused the downfall of mighty empires, (observes Fray Anto- 
lio Agapida,) has ever been considered a study highly delecta- 
)le, and full of precious edification. What then must be the 
listory of a pious crusade, waged by the most Catholic of 
lovereigns, to rescue from the power of the Infidels one of the 
nost beautiful but benighted regions of the globe? Listen 
hen, while, from the solitude of my cell, I relate the events 
f the conquest of Granada, where Christian knight and tur- 
►aned Infidel disputed, inch by inch, the fair land of Andalu- 
ia, until the crescent, that symbol of heathenish abomination, 
kas cast down, and the blessed cross, the tree of our redemp- 
ion, erected in its stead. 

Nearly eight hundred years were past and gone, since the 
LTabian invaders had sealed the perdition of Spain, by the 
efeat of Don Roderick, the last of her Gothic longs. Since 
[lat disastrous event, kingdom after kingdom had been gradu- 
Uy recovered by the Cliristian princes, until the single, but 
owerful, territory of Granada alone remained under domina- 
Lon of the Moors. 

This renowned kingdom was situated in the southern part of 
pain, bordering on the Mediterranean sea, and defended on 
le land side by lofty and rugged mountains, locking up within 



8 THE CONQUEST OF IRANADA. 

sterility of the surrounding heights was repaid by prodigal 
fertility. The city of Granada lay in the centre of the king- 
dom, sheltered as it were in the lap of the Sierra Nevada, or 
chain of snowy mountains. It covered two lofty hills, and a 
deep valley which divides them, through which flows the river 
Darro. One of these hills was crowned by the royal palace 
and fortress of the Alhambra, capable of containing forty 
thousand men within its walls and towers. There is a Moor- 
ish tradition, that the king who built this mighty pile, was 
skilled in the occult sciences, and furnished himself with gold 
and silver for the purpose by means of alchemy.* Certainly, 
never was there an edifice accomplished in a superior style of 
barbaric magnificence; and the stranger who, even at the 
present day, wanders among its silent and deserted courts and 
ruined halls, gazes with astonishment at its gilded and fretted 
domes and luxurious decorations, still retaining their bril- 
Hancy and beauty in defiance of the ravages of time. 

Opposite to the hill on which stood the Alhambra, was its 
rival hill, on the summit of which was a spacious plain, ' 
covered with houses and crowded with inhabitants. It was 
commanded by a fortress caUed the Alcazaba. The declivities 
and skirts of these hills were covered with houses to the num- 
ber of seventy thousand, separated by narrow streets and 
small squares, according to the custom of Moorish cities. The 
houses had interior courts and gardens, refreshed by fountains 
and running streams, and set out with oranges, citrons, and 
pomegranates, so that as the edifices of the city rose above each 
other on the sides of the hill, they presented a mingled appear- 
ance of city and grove, delightful to the eye. The whole was \ 
surrounded by high walls, three leagues in circuit, with twelve 
gates, and fortified by a thousand and thirty towers. The ele- 
vation of the city, and the neighborhood of the Sierra Nevada 
crowned with perpetual snows, tempered the fervid rays of 
summer; so that, while other cities were panting with the sul- 
try and stifling heat of the dog-days, the most salubrious 
breezes played through the marble halls of Granada. 

The glory of the city, however, was its vega or plain, whicb j 
spread out to a circumference of thirty-seven leagues, suriii 
rounded by lofty mountains. It was a vast garden of delight' 
refreshed by numerous fountains, and by the silver windings ; 
of the Xenil. The labor and ingenuity of the Moors had ^ 

* Zurita, lib. 20. c. 42. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. g 

diverted the waters of this river into thousands of rills and 

streams, and diffused them over the whole surface of tlio 

plain. Indeed, they had Avrought up this happy region to a 

degree of wonderful prosperity, and took a pride in decorating 

it, as if it had been a favorite mistress. The hills were clothed 

with orchards and vineyards, the valleys embroidered with 

gardens, and the wide plains covered with waving grain. 

tlere were seen in profusion the orange, the citron, the fig, and 

pomegranate, with great plantations of mulberry trees, from 

which was produced the finest of silk. The vine clambered 

:rom tree to tree ; the grapes hung in rich clusters about the 

)easant's cottage, and the groves were rejoiced by the perpet- 

lal song of the nightingale. In a word, so beautiful was the 

sarth, so pure the air, and so sei one the sky, of this delicious 

•egion, that the Moors imagined the paradise of their Prophet 

o be situated in that part of the heaven which overhung the 

dngdom of Granada.* 

Tliis rich and populous territory had been left in quiet pos- 

ession of the Infidels, on condition of an annual tribute to 

be sovereign of Castile and Leon, of two thousand doblas or 

istoles of gold, and sixteen hundred Christian captives ; or, in 

ef ault of captives, an equal number of Moors to be surrendered 

s slaves; all to be delivered in the city of Cordova. t 

At the era at which this chronicle commences, Ferdinand 

ad Isabella, of glorious and happy memory, reigned over the 

nited kingdoms of Castile, Leon, and Arragon; and Midey 

ben Hassan sat on the throne of Granada. This Muley Aben 

assan had succeeded to his father Ismael in 1465, while 

eiiry IV., brother and immediate predecessor of queen Isa- 

'lla, was king of Castile and Leon. He was of the illustrious 

.10 age of Mohammed Aben Alaman, the first Moorish king of 

•ranada, and was the most potent of his line. He had in fact 

: lamented in power, in consequence of the fall of other Moor- 

ji kingdoms, which had been conquered by the Christians. 

imy cities and strong places of those kingdoms, which lay 

(ntiguous to Granada, had refused to submit to Christian vas- 

f lage, and had sheltered themselves under the protection of 

Iilcy Aben Hassan. His territories had thus increased in 

^ alth, extent, and population, beyond all former example, and 

citained fourteen cities and ninety-seven fortified towns, 



I 



* Juani Botero Benes. Relaciones Universales del Mundo. 
tGaribay. Compend. lib. 4, c. 25, 



to THE CONQUEST OF OR AN AD A. 

besides numerous unwalled towns and villages, defended by 
formidable castles. The spirit of Muley Aben Hassan swelled 
with his possessions. 

The tribute of money and captives had been regularly paid 
by his father Ismael; and Muley Aben Hassan had, on one 
occasion, attended personally in Cordova, at the payment. He 
had witnessed the taunts and sneers of the haughty Castilians; 
and so indignant was the proud son of Afric at what he consid- 
ered a degradation of his race, that his blood boiled whenever 
he recollected the humiliating scene. 

When he came to the tlirone, he ceased all payment of the 
tribute; and it was sufficient to put him in a transport of rage, 
only to mention it. "He was a fierce and warlike Infidel," 
says the Catholic Fray Antonio Agapida; "his bitterness 
against the holy Christian faith had been signahzed in battle, 
during the Ufe-time of liis father; and the same diabolical 
spirit of hostility was apparent in his ceasing to pay this most 
righteous tribute." 

li 



CHAPTER II. 






HOW THE CATHOLIC SOVEREIGNS SENT TO DEMAND ARREARS OF 
TRIBUTE OF THE MOOR, AND HOW THE MOOR REPi^IED. 

In the year 1478, a Spanish courtier, of powerful frame and 
haughty demeanor, arrived at the gates of Granada, as ambas- 
sador from the Catholic monarchs, to demand the arrear of 
tribute. His name was Don Juan de Vera, a zealous and de- 
vout knight, full of ardor for the faith and loyalty for the 
crown. He was gallantly mounted, armed at aU points, and 
followed by a moderate, but well-appointed retinue. , 

The Moorish inhabitants looked jealously at this smaU but 
proud array of Spanish chivalry, as it paraded, with that ! 
stateliness possessed only by Spanish cavaliers, through the 
renowned gate of Elvira. They were struck with the stem 
and lofty demeanor of Don Juan de Vera, and his sinewy 
frame, which showed him formed for hardy deeds of arms 
and they supposed he had come in search of distinction, by , 
defying the Moorish knights in open tourney, or in the famous 
tilt with reeds, for which they were so renowned; for it wa6 1 
still the custom of the knights of either nation to ming^ 
in these courteous and chivalrous contests, during the interval? I 



r///4 coxQVES'': op ouanada. jl 

of war When they learat, however, that he was come to 

demand the tnbute so abhorrent to the ears of the fiery mon 

arch, they observed that it well required a warrior of hi 

apparent nerve, to execute such an embassy ^ 

Muiey Aben Hassan received the cavalier in state seatd r.r, 

fl n.agn.ficent divan, and surrounded by the officer^ of h" 

cour , m the hall of ambassadors, one of the most sumptuoiL 

aparfnents of the Alhambra. When De Vera had d" HvS 

his message, a haughty and bitter smile curled the hp of the 

kfn^' o^r '■''''. '^''f ^'°"^ «°-ereigi,s," said he!"That tho 

}^^f ^™°''^'^^' ^^° "^-^d t« P'-^y tribute in money to the 

but M^Je-for •' T ^"^^ u^""" °^"^* ^* P'-'^^^^t coins^nothing 
ibut blades of scimitars and heads of lances " * 

The defiance couched in this proud reply, was heard with 
^rn and lofty courtesy by Don Juan de vka.lor he wS*a 
bold soldier, and a devout hater of the Infidels; and hlL 
IT f^ "" tl^e^^ords of the Moorish monarch He reti>ed 
from the audience chamber with stately and cerlLonous 
^avity, being master of aU points of etiqiiette. As l~sed 
ihrough the Court of Lions, and paused to regard its ceteSed 
ountain, he feU into a discourse with the M^rish c«rs o^ 
scrtam mysteries of the Christian faith The arin,rn«^t= T 
^eed by those Infidels (says Fray intonTo^AgSlw^^- 
If^rit ^r' ^^-^'8";^*'°° of this most Christian kniVht and 
^[sof Torr'"''"''-;*^",* '**" ^^ '■^^^-^^^'^ himself wifhin tte 
^d Lf • I ^'*'"*?' '^^""« °° tl^'^ P0»™el of his sword 
nd lookmg down with ineffable scorn upon the weak casuists 

eir light attacks upon this stately Spaniard, and thought 
2ha« completely foiled him in the contest but theS 
uan de Vera had an argiunent in reserve for whi^h til 
•ere but Uttle prepared; for, on one of them^'of the mce o te 
Wcerrages, daring to question, with a sAeer, the hnmacu! 
te conception of the blessed virgin, the Cathohi knigS cou d 

d ?hf/ iT^T.^f "^- ^'^"'S his voice of a sudd^ 1 e 
Id the Infidel he lied; and, raising his arm at the saZ t m„ 
remote him on the head with hislheathed ^word "' 

In an instant the Court of Lions glistened with the flash of 
xm and Its fountains would have been dyed with Mood had 
t Muley Aben Hassan overheard the tumult, and forbade ali 
peal to arms, pronouncing the person of 'the ai^la^ldor 

•Garibay. ,;„,„pe„<,. ,ib. 40, c. 29.-Co„de. Hi»t. de le. AraWs, p. i, c. U. 



■^2 THE CONQUEST OF GHANA DA. 

sacred wlii]<:. within liis territories. The Abencerrage trear 
sured up the remembrance of the insult until an hour of ven^ 
seance should arrive, and the ambassador prayed our blessed 
lady to grant him an opportunity of proving her immaculate 
conception on the head of this turbaned Infidel.* 

Notwithstanding this occcurrence, Don Juan de Vera was 
treated with great distinction by Mviley Aben Hassan; but. 
nothing could make him unbend from his stern and stately, 
reserve. Before his departure, a scimitar was sent to him by. 
the king; the blade of the finest Damascas steel, the hHt of: 
ao-ate enriched with precious stones, and the guard of gold. 
De Vera drew it, and smiled grimly as he noticed the admirable 
temper of the blade. ' ' His majesty has given me a trenchant 
weapon," said he; "I trust a time will come when I may show 
him that I know how to use his royal present." The reply was 
considered as a compliment, of course; the bystanders little 
knew the bitter hostility that lay couched beneath. 

Don Juan de Vera and his companions, during their brier 
sojourn at Granada, learned the force, and situation of the 
Moor, with the eyes of practiced warriors. They saw that he 
was well prepared for hostilities. His walls and towers were 
of vast strength, in complete repair, and mounted with lom- 
bards and other' heavy ordnance. His magazines were well 
stored with all the munitions of war: he had a mighty host of 
foot-soldiers, together with squadrons of cavalry, ready to 
scour the country and carry on either defensive or predatory 
warfare. The Christian warriors noted these things without 
dismay; their hearts rather glowed with emulation, at the 
thoughts of encountering so worthy a foe. As they slowly 
pranced through the streets of Grana.da, on their departm^e, 
they looked round with eagerness on its stately palaces and 
sumntuous mosques ; on its alcayceria or bazar, crowded with 
silks and cloth of sHver and gold, Avith jewels and precious 
stones, and other rich merchandise, the luxuries of every 
clime; and they longed for the time when all this wealtt 
should be the spoil of the soldiers of the faith, and when eacl 
tramp of their steeds might be fetlock deep in the blood anc, 
carnage of the Infidels. u 

Don Juan de Vera and his little band pursued their wa^l 

* The Curate of Los Palacios also records this anecdote, but mentions it as hap 
pening on a subsequent occasion, Avhen Don .Juan de Vera was sent to negotiate fo; 
certain Christian captives. There appears every reason, however, to consider F^, 
Antonio Agapida most correct in the period to which he refers it. 



1 



TIIK CONQUJCST OF ORANADA. jo 

slowly through the country, to the Christian frontier. Every 
town was strongly fortified. The vega was studded with tow- 
ers of refuge for the peasantry ; every pass of the mountain 
had its castle of defence, every lofty height its watch-tower. 
As the Clu'istian cavaliers passed under the walls of the for- 
tresses, lances and scimitars flashed from their battlements, 
and the turbaned sentinels seemed to dart from their dark eyes 
glances of hatred and defiance. It was evident that a war with 
this kingdom must be one of doughty peril and valiant enter- 
prise ; a war of posts, where every btep must be gained by toil 
and bloodshed, and maintained with the utmost difficulty. 
The warrior spirit of the cavaliers kindled at the thoughts, 
and they were impatient for hostih ties ; "not," says Antonio 
i Agapida, " for any thirst for rapine and revenge, but from that 
pure and holy indignation Avhich every Spanish knight enter- 
itained at beholding this beautiful dominion of his ancestors 
[defiled by the footsteps of Infidel usurpers. It was impossi- 
ible," he adds, " to contemplate this delicious country, and not 
ilong to see it restored to the dominion of the true faith, and 
(the sway of the Christian monarchs." 

\ When Don Juan de Vera returned to the Castilian court, 
and reported the particulars of his mission, and all that he had 
heard and seen in the Moorish territories, he was highly hon- 
ored and rewarded by king Ferdinand ; and the zeal he had 
shown in vindication of the sinless conception of the blessed 
virgin, was not only applauded by that most Catholic of sov- 
ereigns, but gained him great favor and renown among all 
pious cavaliers and reverend prelates. 

y 



CHAPTER III. 



HOW THE MOOR DETERMINED TO STRIKE THE FHIST BLOW IN 
THE WAR. 

^ The defiance thus hurled at the CastOian sovereigns by the 
iery Moorish king, would at once have been answered by the 
bunder of their artillery ; but they were embroiled, at^ that 
ime, in a war with Portugal, and in contests with their own 
letious nobles. The truce, therefore, which had existed for 
iany years between the nations, was suffered to continue; the 
^ary Ferdinand reserving the refusal to pay tribute as a fair 



14 THE CONQUEST OF G BAN ADA. 

ground for war, whenever the favorable moment to wage it 
should arrive. 

In the course of three years, the war with Portugal was ter- 
minated, and the factions of the Spanish nobles were, for the 
most part, quelled. The Castilian sovereigns now turned their 
thoughts to what, from the time of the union of their crowns, 
had been the great object of their ambition, — the conquest of 
Granada, and the complete extirpation of the Moslem power 
from Spain. Ferdinand, whose pious zeal was quickened by 
motives of temporal policy, looked with a craving eye at the 
rich territory of the Moor, studded with innumerable towns 
and cities. He determined to carry on the war with cautious 
and persevering patience, taking town after town and fortress 
after fortress, and gradually plucking away all the supports, 
before he attempted the Moorish capital. "I will pick out the 
seeds, one by one, of this pomegranate, " said the wary Fer- 
dinand.* 

Muley Aben Hassan was aware of the hostile intentions of 
the Catholic monarch, but felt confident in his means of I 
resisting them. He had amassed great wealth, during a tran- 
quil reign ; he had strengthened the defences of his kingdom, 
and had drawn large bodies of auxiliary troops from Barbary, 
besides making arrangements with the African princes to 
assist him with supplies, in case of emergency. His subjects 
were fierce of spirit, stout of heart, and valiant of hand. In- 
ured to the exercises of war, they could fight skilfully on foot, 
but, above all, were dexterous horsemen, whether heavily 
armed and fully appointed, or lightly mounted a la geneta, 
with simply lance and target. They were patient of fatigue, 
hunger, thirst, and nakedness; prompt for war, at the first 
summons of their king, and tenacious in defence of their towns 
and possessions. 

Thus amply provided for war, Muley Aben Hassan deter- 
mined to be beforehand with the politic Ferdinand, and to be 
the first to strike a blow. In the truce which existed between 
them, there was a singular clause, permitting either party to 
make sudden inroads and assaults upon towns and fortresses, 
provided they were done furtively and by stratagem, without 
display of banners or sound of trumpet, or regular encamp- 
ment, and that they did not last above three days.f This gave 



* Granada is the Spanish term fov pomegranate. 

tZurita. Anales de Aragon, 1. 20, c. 41.— Mariana. Hist, de Espana, 1. 25, c. 1. 



THE COAQUh'ST OF GliA^XADA. ]/) 

rise to frequent enterprises of a hardy and adventurous cnar- 
actcr, in which castles and strongholds were taken by surprise, 
and carried s^vord in hand. A long time had elapsed, how- 
ever, without any outrage of tlie kind on the part of the 
Moors ; and the Christian towns on the frontiers had all, in 
consequence, fallen into a state of the most negligent security. 

Muley Aben Hassan cast his eyes round to select his object 
of attack, Avhen information was brought him that the for- 
tress of Zahara was but feebly garrisoned and scantily sup- 
plied, and that its alcayde was careless of his charge. This 
important post was on the frontier, between Ronda and Me- 
dina Sidonia, and was built on the crest of a rocky mountain, 
with a strong castle perched above it, upon a cliff, so high that 
it was said to be above the flight of birds or drift of clouds. 
The streets and many of the houses were mere excavations, 
wrought out of the living rock. The town had but one gate, 
opening to the west, and defended by towers and bulwarks. 
The only ascent to this cragged fortress was by roads cut in 
the rock, and so rugged as in many places to resemble broken 
stairs. Such was the situation of the mountain fortress of 
Zahara, which seemed to set all attack at defiance, insomuch 
that it had become so proverbial throughout Spain, that a 
woman of forbidding and inaccessible virtue was called a 
Zahareiia. But the strongest fortress and sternest virtue have 
weak points, and require unrenutting vigilance to guard 
them: let warrior and dame take warning from the fate of 
Zahara. 



CHAPTER IV. 



EXPEDITION OP MIJLEY ABEN HASSAN AGAINST THE FORTRESS OP 
' ZAHARA. 

It was in the year of our Lord one thousand four hundred 
' and eighty-one, and but a night or two after the festival of the 
most blessed Nativity, that Muley Aben Hassan made his fa- 
mous attack upon Zahara. The inhabitants of the place were 
sunk in profound sleep; the very sentinel had deserted his 
post, and sought shelter from a tempest which had raged for 
three nights in succession ; for it appeared but little probable 
that an enemy would be abroad during such an uproar of the 
elements. But evil spirits work best during a storm, (observes 



16 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

the worthy Antonio Agapida,) and Muley Aben Hassan found 
such a season most suitable for his diabolical purposes. In the 
midst of the night, an uproar arose within the walls of Zahara, 
more awful than the raging of the storm. A fearful alarm cry 
— " The Moor.' the Moor!" resounded through the streets, min- 
gled with the clash of arms, the shriek of anguish, and the 
shout of victory. Muley Aben Hassan, at the head of a power- 
ful force, had hurried from Granada, and passed unobserved 
through the mountains m the obscurity of the tempest. While 
the storm pelted the sentinel from his post, and howled round 
tower and battlement, the Moors had planted their scaling- 
ladders, and mounted securely, into both town and castle. 
The garrison was unsuspicious of danger, until battle and 
massacre burst forth within its very walls. It seemed to 
the affrighted inhabitants, as if the fiends of the air had come 
upon the wings of the wind, and possessed themselves of tower 
and turret. The war cry resounded on every side, shout 
answering shout, above, below, on the battlements of the 
castle, in the streets of the town — the foe was in all parts 
wrapped in obscurity, but acting in concert by the aid of 
preconcerted signals. Starting from sleep, the soldiers were 
intercepted and cut down as they rushed from their quarters ; 
or, if they escaped, they knew not where to assemble, or 
where to strike. Wherever lights appeared, the flashing 
scimitar was at its deadly work, and aU who attempted resist- 
ance fell beneath its edge. 

In a little while, the struggle was at an end. Those who 
were not slain took refuge in the secret places of their houses, 
or gave themselves up as captives. The clash of arms ceased; \ 
and the storm continued its howhng, mingled with the occa- , 
sional shout of the Moorish soldiery, roaming in search of l| 
plunder. While the inhabitants were trembling for their fate, ' 
a trumpet resounded through the streets, smnmoning them all 
to assemble, imarmed, in the public square. Here they were 
surrounded by soldiery, and strictly guarded, until day- break. 
When the day dawned, it was piteous to behold this once pros- 
perous community, who had lain down to rest in peaceful 
security, now crowded together without distinction of age, or 
rank, or sex, and almost without raiment, during the severity 
of a wintry storm. The fierce Muley Aben Hassan turned 
a deaf ear to aU their prayers and remonstrances, and ordered 
them to be conducted captives to Granada. Leaving a strong 
garrison m both town and castlej with orders to put them in a 



TIIK CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 17 

complete state of defence, he returned, flushed with victory, 
to his capital, entering it at the head of liis troops, laden with 
spoil, ond bearing in triumph the banners and pennons taken 
at Zahara. 

While preparations were making for jousts and other festi- 
vities, in honour of this victory over the Chiistians, the cap- 
tives of Zahara anived— a wretched train of men, women, and 
children, worn out with fatigue and haggai-d with despair, and 
driven like cattle into the city gates, by a detachment of Moor- 
ish soldiery. 

Deep was the giief and indignation of the people of Gra- 
nada, at this cruel scene. Old men, who had experienced the 
calamities of warfare, anticipated coming troubles. Mothers 
clasped their infants to their breasts, as they beheld the hap- 
less females of Zahara, with their children expiring in their 
arms. On every side, the accents of pity for the sufferei-s 
were mingled with execrations of the barbarity of the king. 
The preparations for festivity were neglected ; and the viands, 
which were to have feasted the conquerors, were distributed 
among the captives. 

The nobles and alfaquis, however, repaired to the Alhambra, 
to congratulate the king ; for, whatever storms may rage in 
the lower regions of society, rarely do any clouds, but clouds 
of incense, rise to the awful eminence of the throne. In this 
instance, however, a voice rose from the midst of the obse- 
quious crowd, that burst like thunder upon the ears of Aben 
Hassan. "Wo! wo! wo! to Granada!" exclaimed the voice ; 
"its hour of desolation approaches. The ruins of Zahara 
will fall upon our heads; my spirit tells me that the end of 
our empire is at hand!" All shrunk back aghast, and left 
the denouncer of wo standing alone in the centre of the hall. 
He was an ancient and hoary man, in the rude attire of a 
dervise. Age had withered his form without quenching the 
fire of his spirit, Avliich glared in baleful lustre from his eyes. 
He was (say the Arabian historians) one of those holy men 
termed santons, who pass their lives in hermitages, in fast- 
ing, meditation, and prayer, until they attain to the purity of 
saints and the foresight of prophets. ' ' He was, " says the 
indignant Fray Antonio Agapida, "a son of Belial, one of 
those fanatic infidels possessed by the de\'il, who are some- 
times permitted to predict the truth to their followers ; but 
with the proviso, that their predictions shall be of no avail. " 

The voice of the santoi; ^sqund^d through the lofty hall of 



IS TUB CONQUEST OF GllAJYADA. 

the Alhambra, and struck silence and awe into the crowd of 
courtly sycophants. Mulcy Aben Hassan alone was unmoved; 
he eyed the hoary anchorite with scorn as he stood dauntless 
before him, and treated his predictions as the ravings of a 
maniac. The santon rushed from the royal presence, and, de- 
scending into the city, hurried through its streets and squares 
with frantic gesticulations. His voice was heard, in every 
part, in awful denunciation. "The peace is broken! the 
exterminating war is commenced. Wo ! wo ! wo to Granada ! 
its fall is at hand! desolation shall dwell in its palaces; its 
strong men shall fall beneath the sword, its children and 
maidens shall be led into captivity. Zahara is but a type of 
Granada!" 

Terror seized upon the populace, for they considered these 
ravings as the inspirations of prophecy. They hid themselves 
in their dwellings, as in a time of general mourning; or, if 
they went abroad, it was to gather together in knots in the 
streets and squares, to alarm each other with dismal fore- 
bodings, and to curse the rashness and cruelty of the fierce 
Aben Hassan. 

The Moorish monarch heeded not th^ir murmurs. Knowing 
that his exploit must draw upon him the vengeance of the 
Christians, he now threw off all reserve, and made attempts to 
surprise Castellan and Elvira, though without success. He 
sent alfaquis, also, to the Barbary powers, informing them 
that the sword was drawn, and inviting them to aid in main- 
taining the kingdom of Granada, and the religion of Mahomet, 
against the violence of unbehevers. 



CHAPTER V. 

EXPEDITION OF THE MARQUES OF CADIZ AGAINST ALHAMA. 

Great was the indignation of king Ferdinand, when he 
heard of the storming of Zahara — more especially as it had 
anticipated his intention of giving the first blow in this event- 
ful war. He valued himself upon his deep and prudent policy ; 
and there is nothing which politic monarchs can less forgive, 
than thus being forestalled by an adversary. He immediately 
issued orders to all the adelantados and alcaydes of the fron- 



Tii/c C()Nqh:i.:sT of guasada 



19 



tiers, to maintain the utmost vigilance at their several posts 
and to prei)aro to carry fire and sword into the territories of 
tiic Moors. 

Among the many valiant cavaliers who rallied round the 
thi-one of Ferdinand and Isabella, one of the most eminent in 
rank and renowned in arms was Don Roderigo Ponce de I eon 
rnai-qucs of Cadiz. As lie was the distinguished champion of 
this holy war, and commanded inmost of its enterprises and 
hatules, it is meet that some particular account should be given 
of Inm. He was born in 1443, of the valiant lineage of the 
ionces, and from his earliest youth had rendered himself 
illastrious in the field. He was of the middle stature wi^h a 
iniiscularand powerful frame, capable of great exertion and 
Lat igue. His hair and beard were red and curled, his roun- 
eiiance was open and magnanimous, of a ruddy complexion 
md slightly marked with the small-pox. He was temperate' 
?Jiaste, valiant, vigilant; a just and generous master to his 
vassals; frank and noble in his deportment towards his equals- 
ovmg and faithful to his friends; fierce and terrible yet 
laagnammous, to his enemies. He was considered the mirror 
)f chivalry of his times, and compared by contemporary his- 
orians to the immortal Cid. 

The marques of Cadiz had vast possessions in the most 
ertile parts of Andalusia, including many towns and castles 
.nd could lead forth an army into the field from his own vas- 
aLs and dependants. On receiving the orders of the king he 
'urnedto signahze himself by seme sudden incursion into the 
:mgdom of Granada, that should give a brilliant commence- 
lent to the war, and should console the sovereigns for the in- 
Lilt they had received in the capture of Zahara. As his estates 
ly near to the Moorish frontiers, and were subject to sudden 
iroads, he had ahvays in his pay numbers of adalides, or 
30uts and gmdes, many of them converted Moors. These he 
,3nt out in aU directions, to watch the movements of the 
lemy, and to procure all kinds of information important to 
le security of the frontier. One of these spies came to him 
le day m his town of Marchena, and informed him that the 
-oonsh town of Alhama was shghtly garrisoned and negh- 
3ntly guarded, and might be taken by surprise. This was a 
rge, wealthy, and populous place within a few leagues of 
ranada. It was situated on a rocky height, nearly surround- 
i by a river, and defended by a fortress to which there was 
3 access but by a steep and cragged ascent. The strength of 



20 THE C0:N QUEST OF GRANADA. 

ite situation, and its being embosomed in the centre of the 
kingdom, had produced the careless security which now in 
vited attack. 

To ascertain fully the state of the fortress, the marques dis 
patched secretly a veteran soldier, who was highly in his con 
fidence. His name was Ortega de Prado, a man of great ac 
tivity, shrewdness, and valor, and captain of escaladors, o] 
those employed to scale the walls of fortresses in time o: 
attack. Ortega approached Alhama one moonless night, anc 
paced along its walls with noiseless step, laying his ear occa 
sionally to the ground or to the wall. Every time, he distin 
guished the measured tread of a sentinel, and now and thei 
the challenge of the nightwatch going its rounds. Finding th< 
town thus guarded, he clambered to the castle :— there al 
w^as silent. As he ranged its lofty battlements, between hin 
and the sky he saw no sentinel on duty. He noticed certaii 
places where the wall might be ascended by scaling-ladders 
and, having marked the hour of relieving guard, and made al 
necessary observations, he retired without being discovered. 

Ortega returned to Marchena, and assured the marques o 
Cadiz of the practicability of scaling the castle of Alhama, an( 
taking it by surprise. The marques had a secret conferenc 
with Don Pedro Henriquez, adelantado of Andalusia; Doi 
Diego de Merlo, commander of Seville ; and Sancho de Avila 
alcayde of Carmona, who all agreed to aid him with thei 
forces. On an appointed day, the several commanders assem 
bled at Marchena with their troops and retainers. None bu 
the leaders knew the object or destination of the enterprise 
but it was enough to rouse the Andalusian spirit, to know tha 
a foray was intended into the country of their old enemies, th 
Moors. Secrecy and celerity were necessary for success. The; 
set out promptly, with three thousand genetes, or Mght cava 
ry, and four thousand infantry. They chose a route but httl 
travelled, by the way of Antiquera, passing with great labc 
through rugged and solitary defiles of the Sierra or chain c 
moLmtains of Alzerifa, and left all their baggage on the bank 
of the river Yeguas, to be brought after them. Their marc 
was principally in the night ; all day they remained quiet ; n 
noise was suffered in their camp, and no fires were made, lef 
the cmoke should betray them. On the third day they resume 
their march as the evening darkened, and forcing themselve 
forward at as quick a pace as the rugged and dangerous moiir 
tain roads would permit, they descended towards midni^li 



THE COAQL'h'Sl' OF G HAN ADA. 21 

iiito a small deep valley, only half a league from Alhama. 
Here they made a halt, fatigued by this forced march, during 
a long dark evening towards the end of February. 

Tiie marques of Cadiz now exj)lained to the troops the ol)ject 
of tlie expedition. He told them it was for the glory of the 
most holy faith, and to avenge the wrongs of their countrymen 
of Zahara ; and that the rich town of Alhama, full of wealthy 
spoil, was the place to be attacked. The troops were roused 
to new ardor by these words, and desired to be led forthwith 
to the cissault. They arrived close to Alhama about two hours 
before daybreak. Here the army i-emained in ambush, while 
three hundred men were dispatched to scale the walls and get 
possession of the castle. They were picked men, many of them 
alcaydes and officers, men who preferred death to dishonor. 
Tills gallant band was guided by the escalador Ortega de 
Prado, at the head of thirty men with scaling-ladders. They 
clambered the ascent to the castle in silence, and arrived under 
the dark shadow of its towers without being discovered. Not 
a light was to be seen, not a sound to be heard; the whole place 
was wrapped in profound repose. 

Fixing their ladders, they ascended cautiously and with 
noiseless steps. Ortega was the first that mounted upon the 
battlements, follow^ed by one Martin Galindo, a youthful es- 
quire, full of spirit and eager for distinction. Moving stealthily 
along the parapet to the portal of the citadel, they came upon 
the sentinel by surprise. Ortega Seized him by the throat, 
brandished a dagger before his eyes, and ordered him to point 
the way to the guard-room. The infidel obeyed, and was in- 
stantly dispatched, to prevent his giving an alarm. The guard- 
room was a scene rather of massacre than combat. Some of 
■■ the soldiery were killed while sleeping, others were cut down 
I almost without resistance, bewildered by so unexpected an as- 
sault: all were dispatched, for the scaling party was too small 
1 to make prisoners or to spare. The alarm spread throughout 
ithe castle, but by this time the three hundred picked men had 
mounted the battlements. The garrison, startled from sleep, 
found the enemy already masters of the towers. Some of the 
; Moors were cut down at once, others fought desperately f I'om 
iroom to room, and the whole castle resounded with the clash 
lOf arms, the cries of the combatants, and the groans of the 
wounded. The arnxy in ambush, finding by the uproar that 
the castle was surprised, now rushed from their concealment, 
and approached the walls wath loud shouts, and sound of ket- 



22 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

tie-drums and trumpets, to increase the confusion and dismay 
of the garrison. A violent conflict took place in the court of 
the castle, where several of the scaling party sought to throw 
open the gates to admit their countrymen. Here fell two 
valiant alcaydes, Nicholas de Roja and Sancho de Avila; but 
they fell honorably, upon a heap of slain. At length Ortega 
de Prado succeeded in throwing open a postern, through which 
the marques of Cadiz, the adelantado of Andalusia, and Don 
Diego de Merlo, entered with a host of followers, and the cita- 
del remained in full possession of the Christians. 

As the Spanish cavaliers were ranging from room to room, 
the marques of Cadiz, entering an apartment of superior rich- 
ness to the rest, beheld, by the light of a silver lamp, a beauti- 
ful Moorish female, the wife of the alcayde of the castle, whose 
husband was absent, attending a wedding-feast at Velez Mal- 
aga. Sh3 would have fled at the sight of a Christian warrior 
in her apartment, but, entangled in the covering of the bed, 
she fell at the feet of the marques, imploring mercy. The 
Christian cavalier, who had a soul full of honor and courtesy 
towards the sex, raised her from the floor, and endeavored to 
allay her fears ; but they were increased at the sight of her 
female attendants, pursued into the room by the Spanish sol- 
diery. The marques reproached his soldiers with their un- 
manly conduct, and reminded them that they made war upon 
men, not on defenceless women. Having soothed the terrors 
of the females by the promise of honorable protection, he ap- 
pointed a trusty guard to watch over the security of their 
apartment. 

The castle was now taken; but the town below it was in 
arms. It was broad day, and the people, recovered from their 
panic, were enabled to see and estimate the force of the enemy. 
The inhabitants were chiefly merchants and tradespeople ; but 
the Moors all possessed a knowledge of the use of weapons, and 
were of brave and warlike spirit. They confided in the strength 
of their walls, and the certainty of speedy relief from Grranada, 
which was but about eight leagues distant. Manning the bat- 
tlements and towers, they discharged showers of stones and 
arrows, whenever the part of the Christian army, without the 
walls, attempted to approach. They barricadoed the entrances 
of their streets, also, which opened towards the castle ; station- 
ing men expert at the cross-bow and arquebuse. These kept 
up a constant fire upon the gate of the castle, so that no one 
could sally forth without being instantly shot dcv/n. Two 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 23 

valiant cavaliers, who attempted to lead forth a party in defi- 
ance of this fatal tempest, were shot dead at the very portal. 

The Christians now found themselves in a situation of great 
peril. Reinforcements must soon arrive to the enemy from 
Granada; unless, therefore, they gained possession of the town 
in the course of the day, they were likely to be surrounded 
and beleaguered, without provisions, in the castle. Some ob- 
served that, even if they took the town, they should not be 
able to maintain possession of it. They proposed, therefore, to 
make booty of every thing valuable, to sack the castle, set it 
on fire, and make good their retreat to Seville. 

The marques of Cadiz was of different counsel. "God has 
given the citadel into Christian hands," said he; " he will no 
doubt strengthen them to maintain it. We have gained the 
place with diflSculty and bloodshed ; it would be a stain upon 
our honor to abandon it through fear of imaginary dangers." 
The adelantado and Don Diego de Merlo joined in his opinion ; 
but without their earnest and united remonstrances, the place 
would have been abandoned ; so exhausted were the troops by 
forced marches and hard fighting, and so apprehensive of the 
approach of the Moors of Granada. 

The strength and spirits of the party witliin the castle were 
in some degree restored by the provisions which they found. 
The Christian army beneath the town, being also refreshed by 
a morning's repast, advanced vigorously to the attack of the 
walls. They planted their scahng-ladders, and, swarming up, 
sword in hand, fought fiercely with the Moorish soldiery upon 
the ramparts. 

In the mean time, the marquis of Cadiz, seeing that the gate 
of the castle, which opened toward the city, was completely 
commanded by the artillery of the enemy, ordered a large 
breach to be made in the wall, through which he might lead 
his troops to the attack ; animating them, in this perilous mo- 
ment, by assuring them that the place should be given up to 
plunder, and its inhabitants made captives. 

The breach being made, the marquis put himself at the head 
of his troops, and entered sword in hand. A simultaneous at- 
tack was made by the Christians in every part— by the ram- 
parts, by the gate, by the roofs and walls which connected the 
castle with the town. The Moors fought valiantly in their 
streets, from their windoAvs, and from the tops of their houses. 
They were not equal tc the Christians in bodily strength, for 
thev were for the most part peaceful men, of industrious call- 



24 THE coy QUEST OF GRANADA. 

ings, and enervated by the frequent use of the warm bath ; but 
they were superior in number, and unconquerable in spirit ; 
old and young, strong and weak, fought with the same des- 
peration. The Moors fought for property, for liberty, for life. 
They fought at their thresholds and their hearths, with the 
shrieks of their wives and children ringing in their ears, and 
they fought in the hope that each moment would bring aid from 
Granada. They regarded neither their own wounds no^* the 
deaths of their companions ; but continued fighting until they 
fell, and seemed as if, when they could no longer contend, 
they would block up the thresholds of their beloved homes 
with their mangled bodies. The Christians fought for glory, 
for revenge, for the holy faith, and for the spoil of these 
wealthy infidels. Success would place a rich town at their 
mercy ; failure would deliver them into the hands of the tyrant 
of Granada. 

The contest raged from morning until night, when the Moors 
began to yield. Eetreating to a large mosque near the walls, 
they kept up so galling a fire from it witli lances, cross-bows, 
and arquebuses, that for some time the Christians dared not 
approach. Covermg themselves, at length, with bucklers and 
mantelets* to protect them from the deadly shower, they made 
their way to the mosque, and set fire to the doors. When the 
smoke and flames rolled in upon them, the Moors gave up all 
as lost. Many rushed forth desperately upon the enemy, but 
were immediately slain ; the rest surrendered themselves cap- 
tives. 

The struggle was now at an end ; the town remained at the 
mercy of the Christians ; and the inhabitants, both male and 
female, became the slaves of those who made them prisoners. 
Some few escaped by a mine or subterranean way, which led 
to the river, and concealed themselves, their wives and chil- 
dren, in caves and secret places; but in three or four days, 
were compelled to surrender themselves through hunger. 

The town was given up to plunder, and the booty was im- 
mense. There were found prodigious quantities of gold and 
silver, and jewels, and rich silks, and costly stuffs of all kinds ; 
together with horses and beeves, and abundarce of grain and 
oil, and honey, and all other productions of this fruitful king- 
dom ; for in Alhama were collected the royal rents and tributes 



* Mantelet— a movable parapet, made of thick planks, to protect troops, when 
advancing to sap or assault a walled place. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 2T) 

of ilie surrounding country; it was the richest town in Iho 
Moorish territory, and, from its great strength and its pecuUar 
situation, was called the key to Granada. 

Great waste and devastation were committed by the Spanish 
soldiery; for, thinking it would be impossible to keep posses- 
sion of the place, they began to destroy whatever they could 
not take away. Immense jars of oil were broken, costly fur- 
|niture shattered to pieces, and magazines of grain broken open, 
land their contents scattered to the winds. Many Christian 
I captives, who had been taken at Zahara, were found buried in 
la Moorish dungeon, and were triumphantly restored to light 
land liberty ; and a renegado Spaniard, who had often served as 
guide to the Moors in their incursions into the Christian terri- 
tories, was hanged on the highest part of the battlements, for 
the edification of the army. 



CHAPTER VI. 



HOW THE PEOPLE OF GRANADA WERE AFFECTED, ON HEARING 
OF THE CAPTURE OF ALHAMA ; AND HOW THE MOORISH KING 
1 SALLIED FORTH TO REGAIN IT. 

A Moorish horseman had spurred across the vega, nor 
reined his panting steed until he alighted at the gate of the 
Alhambra. He brought tidings to Muley Aben Hassan, of the 
jattack upon Alhama. 

I "The Christians," said he, "are in the land. They came 
upon us, we know not whence or how, and scaled the walls of 
the castle in the night. There has been dreadful fighting and 
3arnage in its towers and courts ; and when I spurred my steed 
from the gate of Alhama, the castle was in possession of the 
unbelievers." 

I Muley Aben Hassan felt for a moment as if swift retribution 
1 bad come upon him for the woes he had inflicted upon Zahara. 
I Still he flattered himself that this had only been some tran- 
[sient inroad of a party of marauders, intent upon plunder; and 
that a little succor, thrown into the town, would be sufficient 
to expel them from the castle, and drive them from the land. 
He ordered out, therefore, a thousand of his chosen cavalry, 
ind sent them in all speed to the assistance of Alhama. They 



26 , TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

arrived before its walls, the morning after its capture: the 
Christian standards floated upon its towers, and a body of cav- 
alry poured forth from its gates and came wheeling down into 
the plain to receive them. 

The Moorish horsemen turned the reins of their steeds, and ! 
galloped back for Granada. They entered its gates in tumul- 
tuous confusion, spreading terror and lamentation by their i 
tidings. "Alhama is fallen! Alhama is fallen!" exclaimed] 
they; "the Christians garrison its walls; the key of Granada 3 
is in the hands of the enemy !" 

When the people heard these words, they remembered the 
denunciation of the santon. His prediction seemed still to 
resound in every ear, and its fulfilment to be at hand. Noth- 
ing was heard throughout the city but sighs and wailings. 
"Wo is me, Alhama!" was in every mouth; and this ejacula- 
tion of deep sorrow and doleful foreboding, came to be the 
burthen of a i^laintive ballad, which remains until the pres- 
ent day.* 

Many aged men, who had taken refuge in Granada from 
other Moorish dominions which had fallen into the power of 
the Christians, now groaned in despair at the thoughts that 
war was to follow them into this last retreat, to lay waste this 
pleasant land, and to bring trouble and sorrow upon their 
declining years. The women were more loud and vehement 
in their grief; for they beheld the evils impending over their 
children, and what can restrain the agony of a mother's heart? 
Many of them made their way through the halls of the Alham- 
bra into the presence of the king, weeping, and wailing, and 
tearing their hair. "Accursed be the day," cried they, "that 
thou hast lit the flame of war in our land! May the holy 
Prophet bear witness before Allah, that we and our children 
are innocent of this act ! Upon thy head, and upon the heads 
of thy posterity, until the end of the world, rest the sin of the 
desolation of Zahara !" t 

Muley Aben Hassan remained unmoved, amidst all this 
storm ; his heart was hardened (observes Fray Antonio Aga- 
pida) like that of Pharaoh, to the end that, through his blind 
violence and rage, he might produce the deliverance of the 
land from its heathen bondage. In fact, he was a bold and 

* The mournful little Spanish romance of Ay de mi, Alhama! is supposed to be 
of Moorish origin, and to embody the grief of the people of Granada on this occa- 
sion. 

t Garibay, lib. 40, c. 29. 



THK COiXQU/CST OF GRANADA. 27 

fearless warrior, and trusted soon to make this blow recoil 
upon the head oi" the enemy, lie liad aseertained tliat the 
captors of iUhama were but a handful : they were in the eentre 
OI his dominions, within a short distance of his capital. They 
were deficient in munitions of war, and provisions for sustain- 
ing a siege. By a rapid movement, he might surround them 
with a powerful army, cut off aU aid from their countrymen, 
and entrap them in the fortress they had taken. 

To think was to act, with Midey Aben Hassan ; but he was 
prone to act with too much precipitation. He immediately set 
forth m person, with three thousand horse and fifty thou- 
sand foot, and in his eagerness to arrive at the scene of action, 
would not wait to provide artillery and the various engines 
required in a siege. ' ' The multitude of my forces, " said he, 
confidently, ''will be suflicient to overwhelm the enemy." 

The marques of Cadiz, who thus held possession of Alhama, 
had a chosen friend and faithful companion in arms, among 
the most distinguished of the Christian chivalry. This wtis 
Don Alonzo de Cordova, senior and lord of the house of Agui- 
lar, and brother of Gonsalvo of Cordova, afterwards renowned 
fas grand captain of Spain. As yet, Alonzo de Aguilar was the 
f glory of his name and race— for his brother was but young in 
arms. He was one of the most hardy, valiant, and enterpris- 
ing of the Spanish knights, and foremost in all service of a 
perilous and adventurous nature. He had not been at hand, 
to accompany his friend Ponce de Leon, marques of Cadiz, in 
his inrocid into the Moorish territory ; but he hastily assembled 
a number of retainers, horse and foot, and pressed forward to 
join the enterprise. Arriving at the river Yeguas, he found 
tlip baggage of the army still upon its banks, and took charge 
»J it to carry it to Alhama. The marques of Cadiz heard of 
Hie approach of his friend, whose march was slow in conse- 
liieuce of being encumbered by the baggage. He was within 
•lit a few leagues of Alhama, when scouts came hurrying into 
li^^ place, with intelligence that the Moorish king was at hand 
*vit]i a powerful army. The marques of Cadiz was filled with 
ilnrm lest De Aguilar should fall into the hands of the enemy. 
"< ro-etting his own danger, and thinking only of that of his 
^■'■nd, he dispatched a ^veil-mounted messenger to ride full 
d, and warn him not to approach. 
i lie first detennination of Alonzo de Agiiilar, when he heard 
Imt the Moorish king vras at hand, was to take a strong posi- 
ion in the mountains, and await his coming. The madness of 



28 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

an attempt with Ms handful of men to oppose an immenst 
army, was represented to him with such force as to induce hin 
to abandon the idea ; he then thought of throwing himself int( 
Alliama, to share the fortunes of his friend : but it was now to( 
late. The Moor would infallibly intercept him, and he shoul( 
only give the marques the additional distress of beholding liin 
captured beneath his walls. It was even urged upon him tha 
he had no time for delay, if he would consult his own safety 
which could only be insured by an immediate retreat into tin 
Christian territory. This last opuiion was confirmed by th 
return of scouts, who brought information that Muley Abei 
Hassan had received notice of his movements, and was rapidly 
advancing in quest of him. It was with infinite reluctanc 
that Don Alonzo de Aguilar yielded to these united and powei 
f ul reasons. Proudly and sullenly he drew off his forces, lade; 
vith the baggage of the army, and made an unwilling retrea 
«jOwards Antiquera. Muley Aben Hassan pursued him fo 
some distance through the mountains, but soon gave up th 
chase and turned with his forces upon Alhama. 

As the army approached the town, they beheld the field 
strewn "^vith the dead bodies of their countrymen, who ha 
fallen in defence of the place, and had been cast forth and lei 
unburied by the Cliristians. There they lay, mangled, an 
exi)osed to every indignity ; while droves of half -famished dog 
were preying upon them, and fighting and howling, over thei 
hideous repast.* Furious at the sight, the Moors, in the firs 
transports of their rage, attacked those ravenous animals 
their next measure was to vent their fury upon the Christians 
They rushed like madmen to the walls, apphed scaling-laddei 
in all parts, without waiting for the necessary mantelets an 
other protections,— thinking, by attacking suddenly and f 
various points, to distract the enemy, and overcome them b 
the force of numbers. 

The marques of Cadiz, with his confederate commander; 
distributed themselves along the walls, to direct and animal 
their men in the defence. The Moors, in their blind fury, of te r, 
assailed the most difficult and dangerous places. Dart 
stones, and all kinds of missiles, were hurled down upc 
their defenceless heads. As fast as they mounted they we. j 
cut down, or dashed from the battlements, their ladders ove 
turned, and all who were on them precipitated headlong belo^ ji 



* Pulg:ar. Cronica. 



THE CONQUEST OF G RAX AD A. 29 

Mii^oy Abon Hassan stormed with passion at the sicrlit ; he 
sent detachment after detachment to scale the walls— but in 
vain ; they were like waves rushing upon a rock, only to dash 
thomsclves to pieces. The Moors lay in heaps beneath the 
Avail, and among them many of the bravest cavaliers of Gra- 
nada. The Christians, also, sallied frequently from the gates, 
and made great havoc in the irregular multitude of assail- 
ants. 

On one of these occasions, the party was commanded by Don 
Juan de Vera, the same pious and high-handed knight who had 
borne the embassy to Mulcy Aben Hassan, demanding tribute. 
As this doughty cavalier, after a career of carnage, was slowly 
retreating to the gate, he heard a voice loudly calhng after 
him, in furious accents. "Turn back! turn back!" cried the 
voice; "thou who canst insult in hall, prove that thou canst 
combat in the field." Don Juan de Vera turned, and beheld 
the same Abencerrage whom he had struck with his sword in 
the Alhambra, for scoffing at the immaculate conception of 
the blessed virgin. All his holy zeal and pious indignation re- 
kindled at the sight; he put lance in rest, and spurred his 
steed to firish this doctrinal dispute. Don Juan de Vera was 
1 potent and irresistible arguer with his v/eapon ; and he was 
lided (says Fray Antonio Agapida) by the peculiar virtue of 
his cause. At the very first encounter, his lance entered the 
mouth of the Moor, and hurled him to the earth, never more 
to utter word or breath. Tlius (continues the worthy friar) 
tlid this scoffing infidel receive a well merited punishment, 
through the very organ with which he had offended; and thus 
fvas the immaculate conception miraculously vindicated from 
tiis foul aspersions. 

The Adgorous and successful defence of the Christians, now 
iiade MuJey Aben Hassan sensible of his error in hurrjing 
:rom Granada without the proper engines for a siege. Desti- 
tute of all means to batter the fortifications, the town re- 
nained uninjured, defying the mighty army which raged and 
•oamed before it. Incensed at beirg thus foiled, Muley Aben 
lassan gave orders to undermine the walls. The Moors ad- 
vanced with shouts to the attempt. They were received with 
I deadly fire from the ramparts, which drove them from their 
vurks. Repeatedly were they repulsed, and repeatedly did 
hey return to the charge. The Christians not merely galled 
hem from the battlements, but issued forth and cut them 
[own in the excavations they were attempting to form Tho 



30 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

contest lasted throughout a whole day, and by evening two 
thousand Moors were either killed or wounded. 

Muley Aben Hassan now abandoned all hope of carrying the 
place by assault, and attempted to distress it into terms by 
turning the channel of the river which runs by its walls. On 
this stream the inhabitants depended for their supply of water, 
the place being destitute of fountains and cisterns ; from which 
circumstance it is called Alhama la seca, or "the dry." 

A desperate conflict ensued on the banks of the river, the 
Moors endeavoring to plant palisades in its bed to divert 
the stream, and the Christians striving to prevent them. The 
Spanish commanders exposed themselves to the utmost danger 
to animate their men, who were repeatedly driven back into 
the town. The marques of Cadiz was often up to his knees in 
the stream, fighting hand to hand with the Moors. The water 
ran red with blood, and was encumbered with dead bodies. 
At length, the overwhelming numbers of the Moors gave them 
the advantage, and they succeeded in diverting the greater 
part of the water. The Christians had to struggle severely, to i 
supply themselves from the feeble rill which remained. They ; 
sipJlied to the river by a subterraneous passage ; but the Moor- I 
ish cross-bowmen stationed themselves on the opposite bank, 
keeping up a heavy fire upon the Christians, whenever they 
attempted to fill their vessels from the scanty and turbid 
stream. One party of the Christians had, therefore, to fight, 
w^hile another drew w^ater. At all hours of the day and night, 
this deadly strife was maintained, until it seemed as if every 
drop of water were purchased with a drop of blood. 

In the mean time, the suffering in the town became intense. 
Kone but the soldiery and their horses were allowed the pre- 
cious beverage so dearly earned, and even that in quantities 
that only tantahzed their wants. The wounded, who could not 
sally to procure it, were almost destitute ; while the unhappy 
prisoners, shut up in the mosques, were reduced to frightful 
extremities. Many perished raving mad, fancying themselves 
swimming in boundless seas, yet unable to assuage their , 
thirst. Many of the soldiers lay parched and panting along 
the battlements, no longer able to dra.w a bowstring or hurl 
a stone; while above five thousand Moors, stationed upon 
a rocky height which overlooked part of the town, kept up 
a galhng fire into it with slings and cross-bows; so that the 
marques of Cadiz was obliged to heighten the battlements, 
by using the doors from the private dwellings. 



THE COM^UKST OF a RAN AD A. 31 

The Christian cavaliers, exposed to this extreme peril, and 
in imminent danger of falling into the hands of the enemy, 
dispatched fleet messengers to Seville and Cordova, entreating 
the chivalry of Andalusia to hasten to their aid. They sent 
likewise, imjiloring assistance from the king and queen, who at 
that time held their court in Medina del Campo. In the midst 
of their distress, a tank, or cistern, of water, was fortunately 
discovered in the city, which gave temporary reUcf to thcii* 
sufferings. 



CHAPTER VII. 



now THE DUKE OP RIEDINA SIDONIA, AND THE CHIVALRY OP 
ANDALUSIA, HASTENED TO THE RELIEF OP ALHAMA. 

The perilous situation of the Christian cavaliers, pent up 
and beleaguered within the walls of Alhama, spread terror 
among their friends, and anxiety throughout aU Andalusia. 
Nothing, however, could equal the anguish of the marchioness 
of Cadiz, the wife of the gallant Roderigo Ponce de Leon. In 
her deep distress, she looked round for some powerful noble, 
who had the means of rousing the country to the assistance of 
her husband. No one appeared more competent for the pur- 
pose than Don Juan de Guzman, the duke of Medina Sidonia. 
He was one of the most wealthy and puissant grandees of 
Spain ; his possessions extended over some of the most fertile 
parts of Andalusia, embracing towns, and seaports, and nu- 
merous villages. Here he reigned in feudal state, like a petty 
sovereign, and could at any time bring into the field an im- 
mense force of vassals and retainers. 

The duke of Medina Sidonia and the marques of Cadiz, 
however, were at this time deadly foes. An hereditary feud 
existed between them, v/hich had often arisen to bloodshed 
and open war ; for as yet the fierce contests between the proud 
and puissant Spanish nobles had not been completely quelled 
by the power of the crown, and in this respect they exerted a 
right of sovereignty, in leading their vassals against each other 
in open field. 

The duke of Medina Sidonia would have appeared, to many, 
the very last person to whom to apply lor aid of the marques 
of Cadiz; but the marchioness judged of him by the standard 



32 TlIM CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

of her own high and generous mind. She knew him to be a 
gallant and courteous knight, and had already experienced the 
magnanimity of his spirit, having been relieved by him when 
besieged by the Moors in her husband's fortress of Arcos. To 
the duke, therefore, she applied in this moment of sudden 
calamity, imploring him to furnish succor to her husband. 
The event showed how well noble spirits understand each 
other. No sooner did the duke receive this appeal from the 
wife of his enemy, than he generously forgot all feeling of 
anunosity, and determined to go in person to his succor. He 
immediately despatched a courteous letter to the marchioness, 
assuring her that in consideration of the request of so honor- 
able and estimable a lady, and to rescue from peril so valiant 
a cavalier as her husband, whose loss would be great, not only 
to Spain, but to all Christendom, he would forego the recollec- 
tion of all past grievances, and hasten to his relief with all the 
forces he could raise. 

The duke wrote at the same time to the alcaydes of his towns 
and fortresses, ordering them to join him forthwith at Seville, 
with all the forces they could spare from their garrisons. He 
called on all the chiv-alry of Andalusia to make a common 
«ause in the rescue of those Christian cavaliers, and he offered 
large pay to all volunteers who would resort to him with 
horses, armor, and provisions. Thus all who could be incited 
by honor, religion, patriotism, or thirst of gain, were induced 
to hasten to his standard, and he took the field with an army 
of five thousand horse and fifty thousand foot.* Many cava- 
liers of distinguished name accompanied him in this generous 
enterprise. Among these was the redoubtable Alonzo de 
Aguilar, the chosen friend of the marques of Cadiz, and with 
him his younger brother, Gonsalvo Fernandez de Cordova, 
afterwards renowned as the grand captain; Don Roderigo 
Giron, also, Master of the order of Calatrava, together with 
Martin Alonzo de Montemayor, and the marques De Villena, 
esteemed the best lance in Spain. It was a gallant and 
splendid army, comprising the flovfer of Spanish chivalry, and 
poured forth in brilliant array from the gates of Seville, bear- : 
ing the great standard of that ancient and renowned city. '] 

Ferdinand and Isabella were at Medina del Campo, when ' 
tidings came of the capture of Alhama. The king was at mass 
when he received the news, and ordered te deum to be chanted 

* Cronica de los Duques de Medina Sidonia, por Pedro de Medina. MS 



TlIK CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 33 

for this signal triumph of the holy faith. When the first flush 
of triumph had subsided, and the king learnt the unminent 
peril of the valorous Ponce do T>.eon and his companions, and 
the great danger that this strong-hold might again be wrested 
from their grasp, he resolved to hurry in person to the scene 
of action. So pressing appeai-ed to him the emergency, that 
he barely gave himself time to take a hasty repast while horses 
were providing, and tlien departed at furious speed iov Anda- 
lusia, leaving a request for the queen to follow him.* He was 
attended by Don Beltram de la Cueva, duke of Albuquerque, 
Don Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, count of Tendilla, and Don Pedro 
Mauriques, count of Treviiio, with a few more cavaliers of 
prowess and distinction. He travelled by forced journeys, 
frequently changing his jaded horses, being eager to ai-rive in 
time to take command of the Andalusian chivalry. When lie 
arrived within five leagues of Cordova, the duke of Albu- 
querque remonstrated with him upon entering, with such 
incautious haste, into the enemies' country. He represented 
to him that there wxre troops enough assembled to succor 
Alhama, and that it was not for him to venture his royal 
person in doing what could be done by his subjects ; especially 
as he had such valiant and experienced captains to act for 
him. "Besides, sire," added the duke, " your ma jesty should 
bethink you that the troops about to take the field are mere 
men of Andalusia, whereas your illustrious predecessors never 
made an inroad into the territory of the Moors, without being 
ax?companied by a powerful force of the staunch and iron war- 
riors of old Castile." 

j "Duke," replied the king, "your counsel might have been 
fgood, had I not departed from Medina with the avowed deter- 
mination of succoring these cavaliers in person. I am now 
near the end of my journey, and it would be beneath my 
dignity to change my intention, before even I had met Avith an 
impediment. I shall take the troops of this country who are 
'assembled, without waiting for those of Castile, and with the 
Kid of God, shall prosecute my journey." f 
' As king Ferdinand approached Cordova, the principal in- 
litiabitants came forth to receive him. Learning, however, 
ii'bot the duke of Medina Sidonia was already on the march, 
[ 'md pressing forward into the territory of the Moors, the king 

r— ■ 

* Illescas. Hist. Pontifical. 
t Pulgar. Cronica, p. 3, c. 3, 



^4 THE CONQUEST OF ORANADA. \ 

was all on fire to overtake him, and to lead in person tlio 
succor to Alhama. Without entering Cordova, therefore, he 
exchanged his weary horses for those of the inhabitants who 
had come forth to meet him, and pressed forward for tho 
army. He dispatched fleet couriers in advance, requesting the 
duke of Medina Sidonia to await his coming, that he might 
take command of the forces. 

Neither the duke nor his companions in arms, however, felt 
inclined to pause in their generous expedition, and gratify the 
inclination of the king. They sent back missives, representing 
that they were far within the enemies' frontier, and it was 
dangerous either to pause or turn back. They had likewise 
received pressing entreaties from the besieged to hasten their 
speed, setting forth their great sufferings, and their hourly 
peril of being overwhelmed by the enemy. 

The king was at Ponton del Maestre, when he received these 
missives= So inflamed was he with zeal for the success of this 
enterprise, that he would have penetrated into the kingdom of 
G-ranada with the handful of cavaliers who accompanied him, 
but they represented the rashness of such a journey, through 
the mountainous defiles of a hostfle country, thickly beset with 
towns and castles. With some difficulty, therefore, he was 
dissuaded from his inclination, and prevailed upon to await 
tidings from the army, in the frontier city of Antiquera. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

SEQUEL OF THE EVENTS AT ALHAMA. 

While all Andalusia was thus in arms, and pouring its 
chivalry through the mountain passes of the Moorish frontier, 
the garrison of Alhama was reduced to great extremity, and in 
danger of sinking under its sufferings before the promised 
succor could arrive. The intolerable thirst that prevailed in 
consequence of the scarcity of v/ater, the incessant watch that 
had to be maintained over the vast force of enemies without, 
and the great number of prisoners within, and the wounds 
wliich almost every soldier had received in the incessant 
skirmishes and assaults, had worn grievously both flesh and 
spirit. The noble Ponce de Leon, marques of Cadiz, still ani- 
mated the soldiery, however, by word and example, sharing 



IIIK CONQlfh'ST OF dliAAADA. 'if) 

every hardship and being foremost in every danger; exeni- 
phfying that a good commander is the vital spirit oi' an army. 

When Muley Aben Hassan heard of the vast force that 
was approaching under the command of the duke of Medina 
Sidonia, and that Ferdinand was coming in person with 
additional troops, he perceived that no time was to be lost : 
Albania must be carried by one powerful attack, or abandoned 
entirely to the Christians. 

A number of Moorish cavaliers, some of the bravest youth of 
Granada, knowing the wishes of the king, proposed to under- 
talve a desperate enterprise, which, if successful, must put 
Alhama in his power. Early one morning, when it was 
scarcely the gray of the dawn, about the time of changing the 
watch, these cavaliers approached the town, at a place con- 
sidered inaccessible, from the steepness of the rocks on which 
the wall was founded; which, it was supposed, elevated the 
battlements beyond the reach of the longest scaling-ladder. 
The Moorish knights, aided by a number of the stroTip:ost and 
most active escaladors, mounted these rocks, and applied the 
ladders, without being discovered; for, to divert attention 
from them, Muley Aben Hassan made a false attack upon the 
town in another quarter. 

The scaling party mounted with difficulty, and in small 
numbers ; tne sentinel w^as killed at his post, and seventy of 
the Moore made their way into the streets before an akx^m was 
given. The guards rushed to the walls, to stop the hostile 
throng that was still pouring in. A sharp conflict, h^nd to 
hand and man to man, took place on the battlements, and 
many on both sides fell. The Moors, whether wound. 5 or 
slain, were thrown headlong without the walls; the scaling- 
ladders were overturned, and those who were mounting Avere 
dashed upon the rocks, and from thence tumbled upon the 
plain. Thus, in a little while, the ramparts were cleared by 
Christian prowess, led on by that valiant knight Don Alonzo 
Ponce, the uncle, and that brave esquire Pedro Pineda, nephew 
bf the marques of Cadiz. 

The walls being cleared, these two kindred cavaliers now 
hastened with their forces in pursuit of the seventy Moors 
who had gained an entrance into the town. The main party 
Sf the garrison being engaged at a distance resisting the 
I ceigned attack of the Moorish king, this fierce band of infidels 
aad ranged the streets almost without opposition, and were 
making their Avay to the ga^ to throw them open to the 



36 THE CONQUEST OF ORANADA. 

army.* They were chosen men from among the Moorish 
forces, several of them gallant knights of the proudest famihes 
of Granada. Their footsteps through the city were in a man- 
ner printed in blood, and they were tracked by the bodies of 
those they had killed and wounded. They had attained the 
gate ; most of the guard had fallen beneath their scimitars : a 
moment more, and Alhama would have been thrown open to 
the enemy. 

Just at this juncture, Don Alonzo Ponce and Pedro 'de;; 
Pineda reached the spot ^vith their forces. The Moors had the 
enemy in front and rear ; they placed themselves back to back, 
with their banner in the centre. In this way they fought 
with desperate and deadly determination, making a rampart , 
around them with the slain. More Christian troops arrived, 
and hemmed them in; but still they fought, without asking for 
quarter. As their numbers decreased, they serried their circle 
still closer, defending their banner from assault ; and the last 
Moor died at his post, grasping the standard of the Prophet. 
This standard was displayed from the walls, and the turbaned 
heads of the Moors were thrown down to the besiegers. t 

Muley Aben Hassan tore his beard with rage at the failure 
of this attempt, and at the death of so many of his chosen 
cavaliers. He saw that all further effort was in vain; his 
scouts brought word that they had seen from the heights, the 
long columns and flaunting banners of the Christian army 
approaching through the mountains. To linger would be to 
place himself between two bodies of the enemy. Breaking up 
his camp, therefore, in all haste, he gave up the siege oi 
Alhama, and hastened back to Granada; and the last clash oi 
his cymbals scarce died upon the ear from the distant hills, 
before the standard of the duke of Medina Sidonia was seen 
emerging in another direction from the defiles of the moun- 
tains. 

When the Christians in Alhama beheld their enemies retreat- 
ing on one side and their friends advancing on the other, the\ 
uttered shouts of joy and hymns of thanksgiving, for it was a^ 
a sudden relief from present death. Harassed by severa 
weeks of incessant vigil and fighting, suffering from scarcity 
of provisions and almost continual thirst, they resemblec 

* Zurita, lib. 20, c. 43. 

t Pedro de Pineda received the honor of knighthood from the hand of king Fer 
dinand. for liis valor on this occasion; (Alonzo Ponco ^Yas already knight.) Set 
Zufiiga, Aiinales of Seville, lib. 1^. an, 1482. 



Tiih: coAQLr/:s'j' of uhaxada. •)'7 

Bkoletons rather than hving men. It was a noble and gracions 
sight to behold the meeting of those two ancient foes, the duke 
of Medina Sidonia and the marques of Cadiz. When the 
marques beheld his magnanimous dehverer approaching, he 
melted into tears ; all past animosities only gave the greater 
poignancy to present feelings of gratitude and admiration; 
they clasped each other in their arms, and from that time for- 
ward were true and cordial friends. 

While this generous scene took place between the comman- 
ders, a sordid contest arose among their troops. The soldiers 
who had come to the rescue claimed a portion of the si)oils of 
Alhama; and so violent was the dispute, that both parties 
seized their arms. The duke of Medina Sidonia interfered, 
and settled the question with his characteristic magnanimity. 
He declared that the si)oil belonged to those who had captured 
the city. "We have taken the field," said he, "only for 
honor, for religion, and for the rescue of our countrymen and 
fellow-Christians; and the success of our enterprise is a suffi- 
cient and a glorious reward. If we desire booty, there are 
efficient Moorish cities yet to be taken, to enrich us all." 
The soldiers were convinced by the frank and chivalrous 
j-easoning of the duke ; they replied to his speech by acclama- 
ions, and the transient broil was happily appeased. 

The marchioness of Cadiz, with the forethought of a loving 

vife, had dispatched her major domo ^vith the army with a 

arge supply of provisions. Tables were immediately spread 

)eneath the tents, where the marques gave a banquet to the 

luke and the cavaliers who had accompanied him, and nothing 

»ut hilarity prevailed in this late scene of suffering and death. 

, A garrison of fresh troops ^vas left in Alhama; and the 

: eterans who had so valiantly captured and riainlained it, 

.eturned to their homes, burthened with precious booty. The 

larques and duke, with their confederate cavaliers, repaired 

Antiquera, where they were received with great distinction 

•y the king, who honored the marques of Cadiz with signal 

: larks of favor. The duke then accompanied his late enemy, 

^ lit now most zealous and grateful friend, the marques of 

M-'adiz, to his town of ]\Iarchena, where he received the reward 

ff his generous conduct, in the thanks and blessings of the 

! larchioness. The marques celebrated a sumptuous feast, in 

f onor of his guest ; for a day and night, his palace was thrown 

:.)en, and was the scene of continual revel and festivity. 

' yhen the duke departed for his estates at St. Lucar, tho 

li 



33 THE CONQUEST OF OR AN AD A. 

marques attended him for some distance on his journey; an< 
when they separated, it was as the -parting scene of brothers 
Such was the noble spectacle exhibited to the chivalry o 
Spain, by these two illustrious rivals. Each reaped universa 
renown from the part he had performed in the campaign; th, 
marques, from having surprised and captured one of the mos 
important and formidable fortresses of the kingdom of Grana 
da ; and the duke, from having subdued his deadhest foe, by ; 
great act of magnanimity. 



CHAPTER IX. 



EVENTS AT GRANADA, AND RISE OF THE MOORISH KING BOABDl) 

EL CHICO. 

The Moorish king, Aben Hassan, returned, baffled and difi 
appointed, from before the walls of Albania, and was receive 
with groans and smothered execrations by the people of G^t 
nada. The prediction of the santon was in every mouth, an 
appeared to be rapidly fulfflling; for the enemy was alread 
strongly fortified in Alhama, in the very heart of the kingdon 
'J'he disaffection, which broke out in murmurs anaong the con 
mon people, fermented more secretly and dangerously anion 
the nobles. Muley Aben Hassan was of a fierce and cru< 
nature; his reign had been marked with tyranny and bloo( 
shod, and many chiefs of the family of the Abencerrages, tl. 
noblest lineago among the Moors, had fallen victims to h 
pohcy or vengeance. A deep plot was now formed, to put a 
erd to his oppressions, and dispossess him of the throne. Tl 
situation of the royal household favored the conspiracy. 

Muley Aben Hassan, though cruel, was uxorious; that is 1 
sa:/ , he had many wives, and was prone to be managed by thei 
by turns. He had two queens in particular, whom he ha 
chosen from affection. One, named Ayxa, was a Mooris 
female : she was likewise termed in Arabic, La Horra, or tl 
chaste, from the spotless purity of her character. Wliile y. 
in the prime of her beauty, she bore a son to Aben Hassan, tl 
expected heir to his throne. The name of this prince w; 
Mahomet Abdalla, or, as he has more generally been term€ 
among historians, Boabdil. At his birth, the astrologer 
according to custom, cast his horoscope : they were seized wil 



tup: COXQUh'ST OF an A NAD A. 30 

fonr and trembling, when they beheld the fatal portents re- 
vealed to then- science. "Allah Achbar ! God is great !" exclaimed 
t]i(\v; "he alone controls the fate of emph*es. It is written in 
tiu' heavens that this prince shall sit upon the throne of 
( ii anada, but that the downfall of the kingdom shall be accom- 
plished during his reign." From this time, the prince was 
iner regarded with aversion by his father; and the series of 
persecutions which he suffered, and the dark prediction which 
luiiig over him from his infancy, procured him the surname 
)f FA Zogoybi, or "the unfortunate." He is more commonly 
s:n<nvn by the appellation of El Chico (the yoimger), to distin- 
^niisli him from an usurping uncle. 

The other favorite queen of Aben Hassan was named Fatima, 
f) Nvliich the Moors added the appellation of La Zoraya, or the 
i;;]it of dawn, from her effulgent beauty. She was a Christian 
)}■ birth, the daughter of the commander Sancho Ximenes de 
>()lis, and had been taken captive in her tender youth.* The 
s:ing, who was well stricken in years at the time, became 
enamored of the blooming Christian maid; he made her his 
sultana, and, like most old men who marry in their dotage, 
•esigned himself to her management. Zoraya became the 
notlier. of two princes, and her anxiety for their advancement 
>oonied to extinguish every other natural feeling in her breast. 
■^he was as ambitious as she was beautiful, and her ruling 
lesirc became to see one of her sons seated upon the throne of 
iranada. For this purpose, she made use of all her arts, and 
)f the complete ascendancy she had over the mind of her cruel 
iiisV)and, to undermine his other children in his affections, and 
<) till him with jealousies of their designs. Muley Aben Has- 
vin was so wrought upon by her machinations, that he pubhcly 
nn several of his sons to death, at the celebrated fountain of 
^iiins, in the court of the Alhambra,— a place signalized in 
vb.orish history as the scene of many sanguinary deeds. 

The next measure of Zoraya, was against her rival sultana, 
lic \artuous Ayxa. She was past the bloom of her beauty, and 
lad ceased to be attractive in the eyes of her husband. He 
vas easily persuaded to repudiate her, and to confine her and 
I'T son in the tower of Cimares, one of the principal towers of 
lie Alhambra. As Boabdil increased in years, Zoraya beheld 
n him a formidable obstacle to the pretensions of her sons; 
or he was universally considered heir-apparent to the throne. 

* Salazar. Cronica del Gran Cardinal, cap. 71, 



40 THE coy QUEST OF GEAKADA. 

The jealousies, suspicions, and alarms of his tiger-hearted* 
father, were again excited ; he was reininded, too, of the pre- 
diction that fixed the ruin of the kingdom during the reign of 
this prince. Muley Aben Hassan impiously set the stars at 
defiance : ' ' The sword of the executioner, " said he, ' ' shall prove 
the falsehood of these lying horoscopes, and shall silence the ; 
ambition of Boabdil, as it has the presumption of his brothers." 
The sultana Ayxa was secretly apprised of the cruel design i 
of the old monarch. She was a woman of talents and courage, , 
and, by means of her female attendants, concerted a plan fori 
the escape of her son. A faithful servant was instructed to 
wait below the Alhambra, in the dead of the night, on the banks 
of the river Darro, with a fleet Arabian courser. The sultana, 
when the castle was in a state of deep repose, tied together the 
shawls and scarfs of herself and her female attendants, andl 
lowered the youthful prmce from the tower of Cimares.* He 
made his way in safety down the steep rocky hill to the banks of 
the Darro, and, throAving himself on the Arabian courser, was 
thus spirited off to the city of Guadix in the Alpuxarres. Here 
he lay for some time concealed, until, gaining adherents, he 
fortified himself in the place, and set the machinations of his 
tyrant father at defiance. Such was the state of affairs in the 
royal household of Granada, when Muley Aben Hassan re- 
turned foiled from his expedition against Alhama. The faction, 
which had secretly formed among the nobles, determined to 
depose the old king Aben Hassan, and to elevate his son Boabdil 
to the throne. They concerted their measures with the latter, 
and an opportunity soon presented to put them in practice. 
Muley Aben Hassan had a royal country palace called Alix- 
ares, in the vicinity of Granada, to which he resorted occa- 
sionally to recreate his mind, during this time of perplexity. 
He had been passing one day among its bowers, when, on 
returning to the capital, he found the gates closed against him, 
and his son Mohammed Abdalla, otherwise called Boabdil, 
proclaimed king. "Allah Achbar! God is great!" exclaimed 
old Muley Aben Hassan; " it is in vain to contend against what 
is vv^ritten in the book of fate. It was predestined, that my son 
should sit upon the throne —Allah f oref end the rest of the pre- 
diction!" The old monarch knew the inflammable nature of 
the Moors, and that it was useless to attempt to check any 
sudden blaze of popular passion. "A little while," said he, 

* Salazar. Cronica del Gran Cardinal, cap, 71. 



THE coy QUEST OF GRANADA. 41 

"and this rash flame will burn itself out, and the people when 
cool will listen to reasoD." So ho tiu*ned his steed from the 
gate, and repaired to the city of Baza, where he was received 
with great demonstrations of loyalty. He was not a man to 
give up his throne without a struggle. A large part of the 
kingdom still remained faithful to him; he trusted that the 
I conspiracy in the capital was but transient and partial, and 
that by suddenly making his appearance in its streets, at the 
head of a moderate force, he should awe the people again into 
allegiance. He took his measures with that combination of 
dexterity and daring which formed his character, and arrived 
one night under the walls of Granada, with five hundred 
chosen followers. Scaling the walls of the Alhambra, he threw 
hnnself with sanguinary fury into its silent courts. The 
sleeping inmates were roused from their repose only to fall 
by the exterminating scimitar. The rage of Aben Hassan 
spared neither age, nor rank, nor sex; the halls resounded 
with shrieks and yells, and the fountains ran red with blood. 
The alcayde, Aben Cimixer, retreated to a strong tower, with 
ja few of the garrison and inhabitants. The furious Aben 
! Hassan did not lose time in pursuing him ; he was anxious to 
I secure the city, and to wreak his vengeance on its rebellious 
I inhabitants. Descending with his bloody band into the streets, 
I he cut down the defenceless inhabitants, as, startled from their 
[sleep, they rushed forth to learn the cause of the alarm. The 
jcity was soon completely roused; the people flew to arms; 
lights blazed in every street, revealing the scanty numbers of 
this band, that had been dealing such fatal vengeance in the 
idark. Muley Aben Hassan had been mistaken in his conjec- 
tures ; the great mass of the people, incensed by his tyranny, 
!were zealous in favor of his son. A violent, but transient con- 
flict took place in the streets and squares; many of the fol- 
lowers of Aben Hassan were slain ; the rest driven out of the 
city ; and the old monarch, with the remnant of his band, re- 
treated to his loyal city of Malaga. 

Such was the commencement of those gi-eat internal feuds 
and diAdsions, Avhich hastened the downfall of Granada. The 
Moors became separated into two hostile factions, headed by 
the father and the son, and several bloody encounters took 
place between them : yet they never failed to act with all their 
separate force agamst the Christians, as a common enemy, 
B^henever an opportunity occurredo 



^2 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

CHAPTER X. 

EOYAL EXPEDITION AGAINST LOXA. 

King Ferdinand held a council of war at Cordova, where it , 
was deliberated what was to be done with Alhama. Most of i 
the council advised that it should be demolished, inasmuch as, , 
being in the centre of the Moorish kingdom, it would be at all ] 
times liable to attack, and could only be maintained by a pow- 
ei'f ul garrison and at a vast expense. Queen Isabella arrived at t 
Cordova in the midst of these deliberations, and listened to 
them with surprise and impatience. " What !" said she, " shaU 
we destroy the first fruits of our victories? shall we abandon i 
the first place we have wrested from the Moors? Never let us 
suffer such an idea to occupy our minds. It would give new 
courage to the enemy, arguing fear or feebleness in our coun- 
cils. You talk of the toil an d expense of maintaining Alhama. 
Did we doubt, on undertaking this war, that it was to be a 
war of infinite cost, labor, and bloodshed? And shall we 
shrink from the cost, the moment a victory is obtained, and 
the question is merely to guard or abandon its glorious trophy? 
Let us hear no more about the destruction of Alhama ; let us 
maintain its walls sacred, as a strong-hold granted us by 
Heaven, in the centre of this hostile land ; and let our only 
consideration be how to extend our conquest, and capture the 
surrounding cities. " 

The language of the queen infused a more lofty and chival- 
rous spirit into the royal council. Preparations were immedi-i 
ately made to maintain Alhama at ail risk and expense ; and j 
king Ferdinand appointed as alcayde Luis Fernandez Puerto ' 
Carrero, Senior of the house of Palma, supported by Diego 
Lopez de Ayala, Pero Ruiz de Alarcon, and Alonzo Ortis, cap- 
tains of four hundred lances, and a body of one thousand foot ; 
supplied with provisions for three months. 

Ferdinand resolved also to lay siege to Loxa, a city of great 
strength, at no great distance from Alhama. For this pur- 
pose, he called upon aU the cities and towns of Andalusia and 
Estramadura, and the domains of the orders of Santiago, Cala- 
trava, and Alcantara, and of the priory of St. Juan, and the 
kingdom of Toledo, and beyond to the cities of Salamanca, 
Tero, and Yalladolid, to furnish, according to their repartimi- 
entos, or allotments^ a certain quantity of bread, wine, and 



THE CONQUEST OF OllANADA. 4;3 

cattle, to be delivered at the royal camp before Loxa, one-half 
at the end of June, and one-half in July. These lands, also, 
together with Biscay and Guipiscoa, were ordered to' send 
reinforcements of horse and foot, each town furnishing its 
quota; and great diligence was used in providing bombards, 
powder, and other warlike munitions. 

The Moors were no less active in their preparations, and 
sent missives into Africa, entreating supplies, and calhng 
upon the Barbary princes to aid them in tliis war of the faith. 
I To intercept all succor, the Castilian sovereigns stationed an 
; armada of sliips and galleys in the Straits of Gibraltar, under 
the command of Martin Diaz de Mina and Carlos de Valera, 
with orders to scour the Barbary coast, and sweep every 
•Moorish sail from the sea. 

j While these preparations were making, Ferdinand made 
'an incursion, at the head of his army, into the kingdom of 
Granada, and laid waste the vega, destroying its hamlets and 
villages, ravagmg the fields of gTain, and driving away the 
cattle. 

It was about the end of June, that king Ferdinand departed 
from Cordova, to sit down before the walls of Loxa. So con- 
fident was he of success, that he left a great part of the army 
at Ecija, and advanced with but five thousand cavalry and 
Bight thousand infantry. The marques of Cadiz, a warrior as 
wise as he was valiant, remonstrated against employing so 
.small a force, and indeed was opposed to the measure alto- 
gether, as being undertaken precipitately and without sufii- 
iient preparation. King Ferdinand, however, was mfluenced 
)y the counsel of Don Diego de Merlo, and was eager to strike 
;i brilliant and decided blow. A vain-glorious confidence pre- 
:;^ailed, about this time, among the Spanish cavahers; they 
)verrated their own prowess, or rather they undervalued and 
lespised their enemy. Many of them beheved that the Moors 
yould scarcely remain in their city, when they saw the Chi-is- 
|ian troops advancing to assail it. The Spanish chivalry, 
herefore, marched gallantly and fearlessly, and ahnost care- 
3ssly, over the border, scantily supplied with the things need- 
|il for a besieging army, in the heart of an enemy's country. 
n the same negligent and confident spirit, they took up their 
bation before Loxa. 

i The country around was broken and hilly, so that it was 
Ittremely difficult to form a combined camp. The river 
l^enil, which runs by the town, was compressed between 



44 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

high banks, and so deep as to be fordable with extreme 
diflaculty; and the Moors had possession of the bridge. The 
king pitched his tents in a plantation of ohves, on the banks 
of the river ; the troops were distributed in different encamp- 
ments on the heights, but separated from each other by deej 
rocky ravines, so as to be incapable of yielding each othei 
prompt assistance. There was no room for the operation of 
the cavalry. The artillery, also, was so injudiciously placed; 
as to be almost entirely useless. Alonzo of Arragon, duke oi 
Villahermosa, and illegitimate brother of the king, was preseni 
at the siege, and disapproved of the whole arrangement. Hf 
was one of the most able generals of his time, and especially 
renowned for his skill in battering fortified places. He recom' 
mended that the whole disposition of the camp should b( 
changed, and that several bridges should be thrown acrosi. 
the river. His advice was adopted, but slowly and negligentl^j 
followed, so that it was rendered of no avail. Among othej, 
oversights in this hasty and negligent expedition, the arm^j 
had no supply of baked bread; and, in the hurry of encamp 
ment, there was no time to erect furnaces. Cakes were there 
fore hastily made, and baked on the coals, and for two day 
the troops were supplied in this irregular way. 

King Ferdinand felt, too late, the insecurity of his position 
and endeavored to provide a temporary remedy. There wa 
a height near the city, called by the Moors Santo Albohacen 
which was in front of the bridge. He ordered several of hi 
most valiant cavaliers to take possession of this height, and t 
hold it as a check upon the enemy and a protection to th 
camp. The cavaliers chosen for this distinguished and peiii- 
ous post, were, the marques of Cadiz, the marques of Villena 
Don Eoderigo Teliez Giron, Master of Calatrava, his brothe 
the count of Ureila, and Don Alonzo de Aguilar. These valiaD 
warriors, and tried companions in arms, led tlieir troops wit 
alacrity to the height, which soon glittered v/ith the array c 
arms, and was graced by several of the most redoubtable per 
nons of warlike Spain. 

Loxa was commanded at this time by an old Mooris; 
alcayde, whose daughter was the favorite wife of Boabdil < 
Chico. The name of this Moor was Ibrahim Ali Atar, bi 
he was generally known among the Spaniards as Alata? 
He had grown gray in border warfare, was an implacabl 
enemy of the Christians, and his name had long been tl: 
terror of the frontier. He was in the ninetieth vear of \v 



THE CONQUK^T OF dUANADA. 45 

age, yet indomitable in spirit, fiery in his passions, sinewy 
and powerful in frame, deeply versed in warlike stratagem, 
and accoimted the best lance in all Mauritania. He had three 
thousand horsemen under liis command, veteran troops, with 
whom he had often scoured the borders ; and he daily expected 
the old Moorish king, with reinforcements. 

Old Ali Atar had Avatched from his fortress every movement 
of the Christian army, and had exulted in all the errors of its 
commanders : when he beheld the flower of Spanish chivalry, 
glittering about the height of Albohacen, his eye flashed Avith 
exultation. *'By the aid of Allah," said he, "I will give those 
pranking cavahers a rouse." 

Ali Atar, privately, and by night, sent forth a large body of 
his chosen troops, to lie in ambush nea,r one of the skirts of 
Albohacen. On the fourth day of the siege, he sallied across 
: the bridge, and made a feint attack upon the height. The 
■ cavahers rushed impetuously forth to meet him, leaving their 
; encampment almost unprotected. Ali Atar wheeled and fled, 
! and was hotly pursued. When the Chi-istian cavaliers had 
i been drawn a considerable distance from theu' encampment, 
they heard a vast shout behind them, and, looking round, 
beheld their encampment assailed by the Moorish force which 
had been placed in ambush, and which had ascended a differ- 
ent side of the hill. The cavaliers desisted from the pursuit, 
' and hastened to prevent the plunder of their tents. Ali Atar, 
in his turn, wheeled and pursued them; and they w^ere 
attacked in front and rear, on the sumixdt of the hill. The 
contest lasted for an hour; the height of Albohacen was red 
■with blood; many brave cavaliers fell, expiring among heaps 
of the enemy. The fierce Ali x\tar fought with the fury of a 
1 demon, until the arrival of more Christian forces compelled 
■him to retreat into the city. The severest loss to the Chris- 
tians, in this sldrmish, was that of Roderigo Tellez Gii'on, 
Master of Caiatrava. As he was raising his arm to make a 
blow, an arrow pierced him, just beneath the shoulder, at the 
open part of the corselet. He fell instantly from his horse, 
l3ut was caught by Pedro Gasca, a cavalier of Avila, who 
conveyed him to his tent, where he died. The king and 
^luecni, and the Avhole kingdom, mourned his death, for he 
was in the freshness of his youth, being but twenty-four 
[rears of age, and had proved himself a gaUant and high- 
iiinded cavalier. A melancholy group collected about his 
'orse, on the bloody height of Albohacen: the 



46 THE COKqUEST OF GIIANADA, 

Calatrava mourned him as a commander ; the cavahers who 
were encamped on the height, lamented him as their com- 
panion in arms, in a service of peril ; while the count de Urefia 
grieved over him with the tender affection of a brother. 

King Ferdinand now perceived the wisdom of the opinion of 
the marques of Cadiz, and that his force was quite insufficient 
for the enterprise. To continue his camp in its present un- 
fortunate position, would cost him the lives of his bravest 
cavaliers, if not a total defeat, in case of reinforcements to 
the enemy. He called a council of war, late in the evening 
of Saturday; and it was determined to withdraw the army, 
early the next morning, to Rio Frio, a short distance from the 
city, and there wait for additional troops from Cordova. 

The next morning, early, the cavaliers on the height of 
Albohacen began to strike their tents. No sooner did Ali 
Atar behold this, than he saUied forth to attack them. Many 
of the Cliristian troops, who had not heard of the intention to 
change the camp, seeing the tents struck and the Moors sally- 
ing forth, supposed that the enemy had been reinforced in the 
night, and that the army was on the point of retreating. 
Without stopping to ascertain the truth, or to receive orders, 
they fled in dismay, spreading confusion through the camp; 
nor did they halt until they had reached the Eock of the 
Lovers, about seven leagues from Loxa.* 

The king and his commanders saw the imminent peril of the 
moment, and made face to the Moors, each commander guard- 
ing his quarter and repelling all assaults, while the tents were 
struck and the artillery and ammunition conveyed away. 
The king, with a handful of cavaliers, galloped to a rising 
ground, exposed to the fire of the enemy, calling upon the 
flying troops and endeavoring in vain to rally them. Setting 
upon the floors, he and his cavaliers charged them so vigor> 
ously, that they put a squadron to flight, slaying many with 
their swords and lances, and driving others into the river, ; 
where they were drowned. The Moors, however, were soon 
reinforced, and returned in great numbers. The king was in 
great danger of being surrounded, and t^vice owed his safety , 
to the valor of Don Juan de Eibera, Senior of Montemayor. 

The marques of Cadiz beheld, from a distance, the peril of: \ 
his sovereign. Summoning about seventy horsemen to follow 
him, he galloped to the spot, threw himself between the king 

* Pulgar. Cronica. 



THE Coyi^Uh'^T OF G RAN AD 47 

and the enemy, and, hurling his lance, transpierced one of the 
most daring of the Moors. For some time, he remained with 
no other weapon than his sword ; his h<jrse was wounded by 
an arrow, and many of liis followers slain ; but he succeeded 
in beating off the Moors, and rescuing the king from imminent 
jeopardy, whom he then prevailed upon to retire to less dan- 
gerous ground. 

The marques continued, throughout the day, to expose him- 
self to tlie repeated assaults of the enemy ; he was ever found 
in the place of the greatest danger, and through his bravery a 
great part of the army and camp was preserved from destruc- 
tion.* 

It was a perilous day for the cormnanders ; for in a retreat 
of the kind, it is the noblest cavaliers who most expose them- 
selves to save their people. The duke of Medina CeU was 
sti'uck to the ground, but rescued by his troops. The count 
de Tendilla, whose tents were nearest to the city, received 
several wounds, and various other cavaliers of the most dis- 
tinguished note were exposed to fearful jeopardy. The whole 
day was passed in bloody skirmishings, in which the hidalgos 
and cavaliers of the royal household distinguished themselves 
by their bravery; at length, the encampments being all broken 
up, and most of the artillery and baggage removed, the bloody 
height of Albohacen was abandoned, and the neighborhood of 
Loxa evacuated. Several tents, a quantity of provisions, and 
a few pieces of artillery, were left upon the spot, from the 
want of horses and mules to carry them off. 

Ali Atar hung upon the rear of the retiring army, and har- 
assed it until it reached Rio Frio ; from thence Ferdinand re- 
turned to Cordova, deeply mortified, though greatly benefited, 
by the severe lesson he had received, which served to render 
him more cautious in his campaigns and more diffident of for- 
tune. He sent letters to all parts, excusing his retreat, miput- 
ing it to the small number of his forces, and the circumstance 
that many of them were quotas sent from various cities, and 
not in royal pay ; in the mean tune, to console his troops for 
their disappointment, and to keep up their spirits, he led them 
upon another inroad to lay waste the vega of Granada. 

: * Cura de los Palacios, c. 58. 



48 THE COiS'qUEST OF GllANADA. 



CHAPTER XI. 

HOW MULEY ABEN HASSAN MADE A FORAY INTO THE LANDS OF 
MEDINA SIDONIA, AND HOW HE WAS RECEIVED. 

Old Mulcy Aben Hassan had mustered an army, and 
marched to the rehef of Loxa ; but arrived too late— the last 
squadron of Ferdinand had already passed over the border. 
"They have come and gone," said he, "Mke a summer cloud, 
and all their vaunting has been mere empty thunder." He 
turned to make another attempt upon Alhama, the garrison of 
which was in the utmost consternation at the retreat of Ferdi- 
nand, and would have deserted the place, had it not been for 
the courage and perseverance of the alcayde, Luis Fernandez 
Puerto Carrero. That brave and loyal commander cheered up 
the spirits of his men, and kept the old Moorish king at bay, 
until the approach of Ferdinand, on his second incursion into 
the vega, obliged him to make an unwilling retreat to Malaga. 

Muley Aben Hassan felt that it vf ould be in vain, with his 
inferior force, to oppose the powerful army of the Christian 
monarch ; but to remain idle and see his territories laid waste, 
would ruin him in the estimation of his people. "If we can- 
not parry, "said he, "we can strike; if we cannot keep our 
o^vn lands from being ravaged, we can ravage the lands of the 
enemy." He inquired and learnt that most of the chivalry of 
Andalusia, in their eagerness for a foray, had marched off 
with the king, and left their own country almost defenceless. 
The territories of the duke of Medina Sidonia were particularly 
unguarded : here were vast plains of pasturage, covered with 
flocks and herds— the very country for a hasty inroad. The 
old monarch had a bitter grudge against the duke, for having 
foiled him at Alhama. " I'll give this cavaher a lesson," said 
he, exultingly, "that will cure him of his love of campaign- 
ing. " So he prepared in all haste for a foray into the country 
about Medina Sidonia. 

Muley Aben Hassan sallied out of Malaga with fifteen hun- 
dred horse and six thousand foot, and took the way by the sea- 
coast, marching through Estiponia, and entering the Christian 
country between Gibraltar and Castellar. The only person 
that was likely to molest him on this route, was one Pedro de 
Vargas ; a shi^ewd, hardy, and vigilant soldier, alcayde of Gib- 



Till': UOAQUr^'^T OF (J RAN AD A. 49 

raltar, and who lay ensconced in his old warrior rock as in a 
citadel. Muley Aben Hassan knew the watchful and daring 
character of the man, but had ascertained that his garrison w^is 
too small to enable him to make a sally, or at least to insure 
him any success. Still he pursued his march, Avith great silence 
and caution ; sent parties in advance, to explore every pass 
where a foe might lie in ambush ; cast many an anxious eye 
towards the old rock of Gibraltar, as its cloud-capped summit 
was seen towering in the distance on his left; nor did he feel 
entirely at ease, until he had passed through the broken and 
mountainous country of Castellar, and descended into the 
plains. Here he encamped on the banks of the Celemin. 
From hence he sent four hundred corredors, or fleet horsemen, 
armed with lances, who were to station themselves near Alge- 
ziras, and to keep a strict watch across the bay, upon the op- 
posite fortress of Gibraltar. If the alcayde attempted to sally 
forth, they were to waylay and attack him, being almost four 
times liis supposed force ; and were to send swift tidings to the 
camp. In the mean time, two hundred corredors were sent to 
scour that vast plain called the Campina de Tarifa, abounding 
with flocks and herds ; and two hundred more were to ravage 
the lands about Medina Sidonia. Muley Aben Hassan re- 
mained with the mam body of the army, as a rallying point, 
on the banks of the Celemin. 

The foraging parties scoured the country to such effect, that 
they came driving vast flocks and herds before them, enough 
to supply the place of all that had been swept from the vega of 
Granada. The troops which had kept watch upon the rock of 
Gibraltar, returned with word that they had not seen a Chris- 
tian helmet stirring. The old king congratulated himself upon 
the secrecy and promptness with wiiich he had conducted his 
i foray, and upon having baffled the \agilance of Pedro de 
j Vargas. 

f Muley Aben Hassan had not been so secret as he imagined ; 
i the watchful Pedro de Vargas had received notice of his move- 
I ments. His garrison was barely sufficient for the defence of the 
I place, and he feared to take the field and leave his fortress un- 
I guarded. Luckily, at this juncture, there arrived in the har- 
j bor of Gibraltar a squadron of the armed galleys stationed in 
{ the Strait, and commanded by Carlos de Valera. The alcayde 
[ inmiediately prevailed upon him to guard the place during his 
j absence, and sallied forth at midrdght with seventy horse. He 
j made for the toAvn of Castellar, wliich was strongly posted on a 



50 THE CONQUrJST OF GJIANADA. 

steep height, knowing that the Moorish king wonld have to 
return by this place. He ordered alarm-fires to be lighted upon 
the mountains, to give notice that the Moors were on the 
ravage, that the peasants might drive their flocks and herds 
to places of refuge ; and he sent couriers, riding like mad, in 
every direction, summoning the fighting men of the neighbor- 
hood to meet him at Castellar. 

Midey Aben Hassan saw, by the fires blazing about the 
mountains, that the country was rising. He struck his tents, 
and pushed forward as rapidly as possible for the border ; but 
he was encumbered with booty, and with the vast cavalgada 
swept from the pastures of the Campina de Tarifa. His scouts 
brought him word that there were troops in the field, but he 
inade light of the intelligence, knowing that they could only be 
those of the alcayde of Gibraltar, and that he had not more 
than a hundred horsemen in his garrison. He threw in ad- 
vance two hundred and fifty of his bravest troops, and with 
them the alcaydes of Marabella and Casares. Behind this van- 
guard was a great cavalgada of cattle ; and in the rear marched 
the king, with the main force of his little army. 

It was near the middle of a sultry summer day, that they ap- 
proached Castellar. De Vargas was on the watch, and beheld, 
by an immense cloud of dust, that they were descending one 
of the heights of that wild and broken country. The vanguard 
and rear-guard were above haK a league asunder, with the 
cavalgada between them ; and a long and close forest hid them 
from each other. De Vargas saw that they could render but 
little assistance to each other in case of a sudden attack, and 
might be easily thrown in confusion. He chose fifty of his 
bravest horsemen, and, making a circuit, took his post secretly 
in a narrow glen opening into a defile between two rocky 
heights, through wliich the Moors had to pass. It was his in- 
tention to suffer the vanguard and the cavalgada to pass, and 
to fall upon the rear. 

While thus lying perdue, six Moorish scouts, well mounted 
and well armed, entered the glen, examining every place that 
might conceal an enemy. Some of the Christians advised that 
they should slay these six men, and retreat to Gibraltar. ' ' No," 
said De Vargas, ' ' I have come out for higher game than these ; 
and I hope, by the aid of God and Santiago, to do good work 
this day. I know these Moors well, and doubt not but they 
may readily be thrown into confusion." 

By this tune, the six horsemen approached so near that they 



77/ A' CONQUEST OF QUA X A DA. 51 

were on the point of discovering the Christian ambush. De 
Vcirgi^s gave the word, and ten horsemen rushed lorth ujjon 
them : in an instant, four of the j\Ioors rolled in the dust ; the 
other two put spurs to their steeds, and fled towards their 
army, pursued by the ten Christians, About eighty of the 
Moorish vanguard came galloping to the relief of their com- 
panions; the Christians turned, and fled towards their am- 
bush. De Vargas kept his men concealed, until the fugitives 
and their pursuers came clattering pell-mell into the glen. At 
a signal trumpet, his men saUicd forth with great heat and 
in close array. The Moors almost rushed upon their w^eapons, 
before they perceived them ; forty of the infidels were over- 
thrown, the rest turned their backs. "Forward!" cried Do 
Vargas ; "let us give the vang-uard a brush, before it can be 
joined by the rear." So saying, he pursued the flying Moors 

\ down hill, and came with such force and fury upon the ad- 
vance guard as to overturn many of them at the first encoun- 
ter. As he wheeled off with his men, the Moors discharged 
their lances; upon which he returned to the charge, and made 
gi'eat slaughter. The Moors fought valiant!}'' for a short time, 
untfl the alcaydes of Marabella and Casares were slain, when 
they gave w- ay and fled for the rear-guard. In their flight, they 
passed through the cavalgada of cattle, threw the whole in 
confusion, and raised such a cloud of dust that the Christians 
coyld no longer distinguish objects. Fearing that the king and 
the main body might be at hand, and flnding that De Vargas 
was badly wounded, they contented themselves with despoiling 
the slain and taking above twentj^-eight horses, and then re- 

I treated to Castellar. 

When the routed Moors came flying back upon the rear- 
guard, Muley Aben Hassan feared that the people of Xeres 
were in arms. Several of his followers advised him to abandon 
the cavalgada, and retreat by another road. "No," said the 
old king, " he is no true soldier who gives up his booty with- 
out fighting." Putting spurs to his horse, he galloped forw^ard 
through the centre of the cavalgada, driving the cattle to the 
riglit and left. When he reached the field of battle, he found 
it strewed with the bodies of upw^ards of one hundred Moors, 
among which were those of the two alcaydes. Enraged at the 
sight, he summoned all his cross-bowmen and cavalry, pushed 
on to the very gates of Castellar, and set fire to two houses 
close to the walls. Pedro de Vargas was too severely w^ounded 

ito sally forth in pei^on ; but he ordered out his troops, and there 



52 THE COAC^UEST OF GRAJVADA. 

was brisk skirmishing under the walls, until the king drew off 
and returned to the scene of the recent encounter. Here he 
had the bodies of the principal warriors laid across mules, to 
be interred honorably at Malaga ; the rest of the slain were 
buried on the field of battle. Then, gathering together the 
scattered cavalgada, he paraded it slov/ly, in an immense line, 
past the walls of Castellar, by way of taunting his foe. 

With aU his fierceness, old Muley Aben Hassan had a gleam 
of warhke courtesy, and admired the hardy and soldierlike 
character of Pedro de Vargas. He summoned two Christian 
captives, and demanded what were the revenues of the alcayde 
of Gibraltar. They told him that, among other things, he was 
entitled to one out of every drove of cattle that passed his 
boundaries. "Allah forbid," cried the old monarch, " that so 
brave a cavalier should be defrauded of his dues. " 

He mimediately chose twelve of the finest cattle, from the 
twelve droves which formed the cavalgada. These he gave in 
charge of an alfaqui, to dehver to Pedro de Vargas. ' ' Tell 
him," said he, "that I crave liis pardon for not having sent 
these cattle sooner ; but I have this moment learnt the nature 
of his rights, and I hasten to satisfy them, with the punctual- 
ity due to so worthy a cavalier. Tell him, at the same time, 
that I had no idea the alcayde of Gibraltar was so active and 
vigilant in collecting his tolls." 

The brave alcayde relished the stern, soldierlike pleasantry 
of the old Moorish monarch. He ordered a rich silken vfest, 
and a scarlet mantle, to be given to the alfaqui, and dismissed 
him with great courtesy. " Tell his majesty," said he, " that I 
kiss his hands for the honor he has done me, and regret that 
my scanty force has not permitted me to give him a more sig- 
nal reception, on his coming into these parts. Had three hun- 
dred horsemen, whom I have been promised from Xeres, 
arrived in time, I might have served up an entertainment more 
befitting such a monarch. I trust, however, they v/ill arrive 
in the course of the night, in which case his majesty may be 
sure of a royal regale at the dawning." 

Muley Aben Hassan shook his head, when he received the 
reply of De Vargas. " Allah preserve us," said he, "from any 
visitation of these hard riders of Xeres ! a handful of troops, 
acquainted with the wild passes of these mountains, may de- 
stroy an army encumbered as ours is with booty." 

It was some relief to the king, however, to learn that the 
hardy alcayde of Gibralta.r was too severely wounded to take 



27/A' CONQUKIST OF GKAAADA. 5o 

the field in person. He immediately beat a retreat, with all 
speed, before the close of day, hurrying with such prcciiJita- 
tion, that the cavalgada was frequently broken, at d scattered 
among the rugged deliles of the mountains; and above live 
thousand of the cattle turned back, and were regained by the 
Christians. Muley Aben Hassan returned triumphantly with 
the residue to Malaga, glorying in the spoils of the duke of 
Medina Sidonia. 

King Ferdinand was mortified at finding his incursion into 
the vega of Granada, counterbalanced by this inroad into his 
dominions, and saw that there were two sides to the game of 
war, as to all other games. The only one who reaped real 
glory in this series of inroads and sku^mishings, was Pedro de 
Vargas, the stout alcayde of Gibraltar.* 



CHAPTER XII. 



FORAY OF SPANISH CAVALIERS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS OP 
MALAGA. 

The foray of old Muley Aben Hassan had touched the pride 
of the Andalusian chivalry, and they determined on retalia- 
tion. For this purpose a number of the most distinguished 
cavaliers assembled at Antiquera, in the month of March, 1483. 
The leaders of the enterprise were, the gallant marques of 
Cadiz; Don Pedro Henriquez, adelantado of Andalusia; Don 
Juan de Silva, count of Cifuentes, aiid bearer of the royal 
standard, who commanded in Seville; Don Alonzo de Carde- 
nas, Master of the religious and military order of Santiago; 
and Don Alonzo de Aguilar. Several other cavaliers of note 
hastened to take part in the enterprise; and in a little while, 
about twenty-seven hundred horse, and several companies of 
foot, were assembled within the old warlike city of Antiquera, 
comprising the very flower of Andalusian chivalry. 

A council of war was held by the chiefs, to determine in 
what quarter they should strike a blow. The rival IMoorish 
kings were waging civil war with each other, in the vicinity of 
Granada ; and the whole country lay open to inroads. Various 

* Alonzo de Palenecia, 1. 28, c. 8. 



54 THE CON(^UEtiT OF GRANADA. 

plans were proposed by the different cavaliers. The marquea 
of Cadiz was desirous of scahng the wails of Zahara, and re- 
gaining possession of that important fortress. The Master of 
Santiago, however, suggested a wider range and a still more 
important object. He had received information from his ada- 
lides, who were apostate Moors, that an incursion might be 
safely made into a mountainous region near Malaga, called the 
Axarquia, Here were valleys of pasture land, well stocked 
with flocks and herds ; and there were numerous villages and 
hamlets, which would be an easy prey. The city of Malaga 
was too weakly garrisoned, and had too few cavalry, to send 
forth any force in opposition ; nay, he added, they might even 
extend their ravages to its very gates, and peradventure carry 
that wealthy place by sudden assault. 

The adventurous spirits of the cavahers were inflamed by 
this suggestion; in their sanguine confidence, they already 
beheld Malaga in their j^ower, and they were eager for the 
enterprise. The marques of Cadiz endeavored to interpose a i 
little cool caution. He Hkewise had apostate adalides, the 
most intelligent and experienced on the borders ; among these, j 
he placed especial rehance on one named Luis Amar, who 
knew all the mountains and valleys of the country. He had ' 
received from him a particular account of these mountains of 
the Axarquia.* Their savage and broken nature was a suffi- 
cient defence for the fierce people who inhabited them, who, \ 
manning their rocks, and their tremendous passes, which i 
were often nothing more than the deep dry beds of torrents^ | 
might set whole armies at defiance. Even if vanquished, they i 
afforded no spoil to the victor. Their houses were little better '; 
than bare walls, and they would drive off their scanty flocks sj 
and herds to the fastnesses of the mountains. 

The sober counsel of the marques, however, was overruled. 
The cavaHers, accustomed to mountain warfare, considered f 
themselves and their horses equal to any wild and rugged ; 
expedition, and were flushed with the idea of terminating 
their foray by a brilliant assault upon Malaga. 

Leaving all heavy baggage at Antiquera, and all such as . 
had horses too weak for this mountain scramble, they set i! 
forth, full of spirit and confidence. Don Alonzo do Aguilar, 

* Pulgar, in his Chronicle, reverses the case, and makes the marques of Cadiz 
recommend the expedition to the Axarquia; but Fray Antonio Agapida is sup- 
ported in his statement by that most veracious and contemporary dironiclei^. 
Andies Bernaldes, curate of Los Palacios. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. gij 

and the adclantado of Andalusia, led the squadron of advance. 
The coiuit of Ciluentes followed, with certain of the chivalry 
of Seville. Then came the battalion of the rr.ost valiant 
Roderigo Ponce de Leon, marques of Cadiz; he was accom- 
panied by several of his brothers and nefjliews, and many 
cavaliers, who sought distinction under his banner; and this 
family band attracted univ^ersal attention and applause, as 
they paraded in martial state through the streets of Antiquera. 
The rear-guard was led by Don Alonzo Cardenas, Master of 
Santiago, and was composed of the knights of his order, and 
the cavaliers of Ecija, with certain men-at-arms of the Holy 
Brotherhood, whom the king had placed under liis command. 
The army was attended by a great train of mules, Jaden with 
pro\dsions for a few days' supply, until they should be able to 
forage among the Moorish villages. Never did a more gallant 
and self-confident little army tread the earth. It was com- 
posed of men full of health and vigor, to whom war was a 
pastmie and delight. They had spared no expense in their 
equipments, for never was the pomp of war carried to a higher 
pitch than among the proud chivalry of Spain. Cased in armor 
richly inlaid and embossed, decked with rich surcoats and 
waving plumes, and superbly mounted on Andalusian steeds, 
they pranced out of Antiquera with banners flying, and their 
various devices and armorial bearings ostentatiously dis- 
played; and in the confidence of their hopes, promised the 
inhabitants to enrich them with the spoils of Malaga. 

In the rear of this warlike pageant, followed a peaceful band, 
intent upon profiting by the anticipated victories. They were 
not the customary wretches that hover aboT.it armies to plun- 
der and strip the dead, but goodly and substantial traders from 
Seville, Cordova, and otiier cities of trafiic. They rode sleek 
mules, and were clad in goodly raiment, with long leathern 
purses at their girdles, well filled with pistoles and other gold- 
en coin. They had heard of the spoils wasted by the soldiery 
at the capture of Alhama, and were provided with moneys to 
buy up the jewels and precious stones, the vessels of gold and 
silver, and the rich silks and cloths, that should form the plim- 
der of Malaga. The proud cavaliers eyed these sonr. of trafiic 
with great disdain, but permitted them to follow for the con- 
venience of l;he troops, who might otherwise be overburthened 
with booty. 

It had been intended to conduct this expedition with great 
celerit^y and secrecy ; but the noise of their preparations had 



56 THE coy QUEST OP GRANADA. 

already reached the city of Malaga. The garrison, it is true, 
was weak ; but it possessed a coimnander who was himself a 
host. This was Muley Abdallah, commonly called El Zagal, op 
the vaHant. He was younger brother of Muley Aben Hassan, 
and general of the few forces which remained faithful to the 
old monarch. He possessed equal fierceness of spirit with his 
brother and surpassed him in craft and vigilance. His very 
name was a war-cry among his soldiery, who had the most 
extravagant opinion of his prowess. 

El Zagal suspected that Malaga was the object of this noisy 
expedition. He consulted with old Bexir, a veteran Moor, who 
governed the city. " If this army of marauders should reach 
Malaga," said he, "we should hardly be able to keep them with- 
out its walls. I will throw myself, with a small force, into the 
mountains ; rouse the peasantry, take possession of the passes, 
and endeavor to give these Spanish cavaliers sufficient enter- 
tainment upon the road." 

It was on a Wednesday, that the pranking army of high- 
mettled warriors issued forth from the ancient gates of Anti- 
quera. They marched all day and night, making their way, 
secretly as they supposed, through the passes of the moun- 
tains. As the tract of country they intended to maraud was 
far in the Moorish territories, near the coast of the Mediter- 
ranean, they did not arrive there until late in the following 
day. In passing through these stern and lofty mountains, 
their path was often along the bottom of a barranco, or deep 
rocky valley, with a scanty stream dashing along it, among 
the loose rocks and stones, which it had broken and rolled 
down, in the time of its autumnal violence. Sometimes their 
road was a mere rambla, or dry bed of a torrent, cut deep 
into the mountain and filled with their shattered fragments. 
These barrancos and ramblas were overhung by immense cliffs 
and precipices; forming the lurking-places of ambuscades, 
during the wars between the Moors and Spaniards, as in aft«r- 
times they have become the favorite haunts of robbers to way- 
lay the unfortunate traveller. 

As the sun went down, the cavaliers came to a lofty part of 
the mountains, commanding to the right a distant glimpse of 
a part of the fair vega of Malaga, with the blue Mediterranean 
beyond, and they hailed it with exultation, as a glimpse of 
the promised land. As the night closed in, they reached the 
chain of little valleys and hamlets, locked up among these 
rocky heights, a.nd known among the Moors by the name of 



TlIK GONqUEST OF GRANADA. 57 

the x\xnrquia. ITerc their vaunting hopes were dostinod to 
meet Avith the first disappointment. The inhabitants had 
heard of their approach ; they had conveyed away their cattle 
and effects, and, with their wives and children, had taken 
refuge in the tov,rers and fastnesses of the mountains. 

Enraged at tlieir disappointment, the troop set fire to the 
deserted houses, and pressed forward, hoping for better for- 
tune as they advanced. Don Alonzo de Agdilar, and the other 
cavaliers in the vanguard, spread out their forces to lay waste 
the country; ca.pturing a few lingering herds of cattle, with 
the Moorish peasants who were driving them to some place of 
safety. 

Wliile tills marauding party carried fire and sword in the 
advance, and lit up the mountain cliffs with the flames of the 
hamlets, the Master of Santiago, who biought up the reai'- 
guard, maintained strict order, keeping his knights together in 
martial array, ready for attack or defence, should an enemy 
appear. The men-at-arms of the Holy Brotherhood attempted 
to roamx in quest of booty ; but he called them back, and re- 
buked them severely. 

At length they came to a part of the mountain completely 
broken up by barrancos and ramblas, of vast depth, and shag- 
ged with rocks and precipices. It was impossible to maintain 
the order of march ; the horses had no room for action, and 
were scarcely manageable, having to scramble from rock to 
rock, and up and down frightful declivities, where there was 
scarce footing for a mountain goat. Passing by a burning vil- 
lage, the light of the flames revealed their perplexed situation. 
The Moors, who had taken refuge in a watch-tower on an im- 
pending height, shouted with exultation, when they looked 
down upon these glistening cavaliers struggling and stumbhng 
among the rocks. Sallying forth from their tower, they took 
possession of the cliffs which overhung the ravine, and hurled 
darts and stones upon the enemy. It was with the utmost 
grief of heart that the good Master of Santiago beheld his 
brave men falling like helpdess victims around him, without 
the means of resistance or revenge. The confusion of his fol- 
lowers was increased by the shouts of the Moors, multiplied by 
1 1 the echoes of every crag and cliff, as if they were surrounded 
1 ; by innumerable foes. Being entirely ignorant of the country, 
in their struggles to extricate themselves they plunged hito 
other glens and defiles, where they were still more exj^osed 
ito danger. In this extremity, the Master of Santiago dis' 



58 \TUE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

patched messengers in search of succor. The marques of 
Cadiz, Hke a loyal companion in arms, hastened to his aid 
with his cavalry; his approach checked the assaults of the 
enemy, and the Master was at length enabled to extricate his 
troops from the defile. 

In the mean time, Don Alonzo de Aguilar and his compan- 
ions, in their eager advance, had hkemse got entangled in 
deep glens, and the dry beds of torrents, where they had been i 
severely galled by the insulting attacks of a handful of Moor^ ^ 
ish peasants, posted on the impending precipices. The proud ! 
spirit of De Aguilar was incensed at having the game of war 
thus turned upon him, and his gaUant forces domineered over 
by mountam boors, whom he had thought to drive, like their 
own cattle, to Antiquera. Hearing, however, that his friend i 
the marques of Cadiz, and the Master of Santiago, were en- 
gaged with the enemy, he disregarded his own danger, and, 
calling together his troops, returned to assist them, or rather i 
to partake their perils. Being once more assembled together, 
the cavahers held a hasty council, amidst the hurling of stones 
and the whistling of arrows ; and their resolves were quick- 
ened by the sight, from time to tune, of some gallant compan- 
ion in arms laid low. They determined that there v/as no 
spoil in tliis part of the country, to repay for the extraordi- 
nary peril ; and that it was better to abandon the herds they ^ 
had already taken, which only embarrassed their march, and 
to retreat with all speed to less dangerous ground. 

The adahdes, or guides, were ordered to lead the way out 
of this place of carnage. These, thinking to conduct them by 
the most secure route, led them by a steep and rocky pass, 
difficult for the foot-soldiers, but almost impracticable to the 
cavalry. It was overhung with precipices, from whence 
showers of stones and arrows were poured upon them, ac- 
companied by savage yells, wliich appalled the stoutest heart. 
In some places, they could pass but one at a time, and were 
often transpierced, horse and rider, by the Moorish darts, im- 
peding the progress of their comrades by their dying strug- 
gles. The surrounding precipices were lit up by a thousand 
alarm-fires ; every crag and cliif had its flame, by the light of 
which they beheld their foes, bounding from rock to rock, and 
looking more like fiends than mortal men. 

Either through terror and confusion, or through real igno- 
rance of the country, their guides, instead of conducting them 
out of the mountams, led them deeper into their fatal recesses. .; 



rilK CONQUKST OP GRANADA. /)<, 

The morning rtawnod upon iheni in a narrow rambla, its bot 
toiii forinod o^ broken I'ocks, where once had raved along tlio 
mountain torrent ; while above, there beetled great arid cliffs, 
over the brows of whicli they beheld the turbaned heads of 
their fierce and exulting foes. What a different appearance 
did the unfortunate cavaliers present, from that of the gallant 
bnnd that marched so vauntingly out of Antiquera ! Covered 
witli dust, and blood, and wounds, and haggard with fatigue 
and horror, they looked like victims rather than like warriors. 
Many of their banners were lost, and not a trumpet was heard 
to rally up their sinking spirits. The men turned with im- 
ploriniL^. eyes to theii' commanders; while the hearts of the 
cavaliei*s wert; ready to burst with rage and grief, at the 
mei'ciless havoc made among their faithful followers. 

All day, they made ineffectual attempts to extricate them- 
selves from the mountains. Columns of smoke rose from the 
heights, where, in the preceding night, had blazed the alarm- 
fire. The mountaineers assembled from every direction ; they 
swarmed at every pass, getting in the advance of the Chris- 
tians, and garrisoning the chffs hke so many towers and battle- 
ments. 

Night closed agam upon the Christians, when they were shut 
up in a narrow valley traversed by a deep stream, and sur- 
rounded by precipices which seemed to reach the skies, and on 
W'h'^.ch blazed and flared the alarm-fires. Suddenly a new cry 
vvas heard resounding along the valley : " El Zagal ! El Zagal !" 
^b.oed from cHff to cliff. "What cry is that?" said the Mas- 
lier of Santiago. " It is the war-cry of El Zagal, the Moorish 
general," said an old Castilian soldier: " he must be coming in 
sersoii, with the troops of Malaga. " 

The worthy Master turned to his knights: "Let us die," said 
ic, " making a road with our hearts, since we cannot with our 
[words. Lrt us scale the mountain, and sell our lives dearly, 
Sostead of staying here to be tamely butchered. " 

So saying, he turned his steed against the mountain, and 
spurred him up its flinty side. Horse and foot followed his 
'xample, eager, if they could not escape, to have at least a 
lying blow at the enemy. As they struggled up the height, a 
remendous storm of darts and stones w^as showered upon 
hem by the Moors. Sometimes a fragment of rock came 
ounding and thundering down, ploughing its way through the 
entre of their host. The foot-soldiers, faint with weariness 
lid hunger, or cripp] ^d by wounds, held by the tails and 



60 THE CO JS QUEST OE GRANADA. 

manes of the horses to aid them in their ascent; while the 
horses, losing their foothold among the loose stones, or re- 
ceiving some sudden wound, tumbled down the steep declivity, 
steed, rider, and soldier, roUing from crag to crag, until they i 
were dashed to pieces in the valley. In this desperate strug- 1 
gle, the alferez or standard-hearer of the Master, with his 
standard, was lost; as were many of his relations and his 
dearest friends. At length he succeeded in attaining the crest 
of the mountain; but it was only to be plunged in new difla- 
culfcies. A wilderness of rocks amd rugged dells lay before 
him, beset by cruel foes. Having neither banner nor trumpet 
by which to rally his troops, they wandered apart, each intent 
upon saving himself from the precipices of the mountains, and 
the darts of the enemy. When the pious Master of Santiago 
beheld the scattered fragments of his late gallant force, he 
could not restrain his grief. " O God!" exclaimed he, "great; 
is thine anger this day against thy servants. Thou hast con- 
verted the cowardice of these infidels into desperate valor, and 
hast made peasants and boors victorious over armed men oljj 
battle." ™ 

He would fain have kept with his foot-soldiers, and, gather- 
ing them together, have made head against the enemy; but 
those around him entreated him to think only of his personal 
safety. To remain was to perish, without striking a blow:' 
to escape was to preserve a hfe that might be devoted to ven; 
geance on the Moors. The Master reluctantly yielded to th( 
advice. "O Lord of hosts!" exclaimed he again, "from thy 
wrath do I fly; not from these infidels; they are but instru 
ments in thy hands, to chastise us for our sins." So saying 
he sent the guides in the advance, and putting spurs to hit 
horse, dashed through a defile of the mountains, before th( 
Moors could intercept him. The moment the Master put hif , 
horse to speed, his troops scattered in all directions. Somt 
endeavored to follow his traces, but were confounded amon^: I 
the intricacies of the mountain. They fled hither and thither j 
many perisliing among the precipices, others being slain bj, 
the Moors, and others taken prisoners. 

The gallant marques of Cadiz, guided by his trusty adalid 
Luis Amar, had ascended a different part of the mountair? 
He was followed by his friend, Don Alonzo de Agnilar, th' 
adelantado, and the count of Gif uentes ; but, in the darknes 
and confusion, the bands of these commanders became sepr 
rated from each other. When the marques attained the suir 



TlIK CONQUKSr OF GUAKADA. Cl 

mil, he looked around for his companions in arms; hnt Ihey 
AV('i-e no longer following him, and there was no trumpet to 
summon them. It Avas a consolation to the marques, however, 
tli;il his brothers, and several of his relations, with a number 
of his retainers, were still with him: he called his brothers by 
name, and their repUes gave comfort to his heart. 

} i is guide now led the way into another valley, where he 
would be less exposed to danger: when he had reached the 
bottom of it, the marques paused to collect his scattered fol- 
lowers, and to give time for his fellow-commanders to rejoin 
him. Hero he was suddenly assailed by the troops of El 
Za,ii:al, aided by the mountaineers from the cliffs. The ChrB- 
Liaiis, exhausted and terrified, lost all presence of mind: most 
:^f them fled, and were either slain or taken captive. The 
mai-ques and his valiant brothers, with a few tried friends, 
li.xle a stout resistance. His horse was killed under him; his 
brothers, Don Diego and Don Lope, with his two nephews, Don 
Lorenzo and Don Manuel, were one by one swept from his 
^ido. either transfixed with darts and lances by the soldiers of 
EI Zagal, or crushed by stones fi-om the heights. The mar- 
ques was a veteran warrior, and had been in many a bloody 
)al tie ; but never before had death fallen so thick and close 
I round him. When he saw his remaining brother, Don Bel- 
ram, struck out of his saddle by a fragment of a rock, and his 
lorse running wildly about without his rider, he gave a cry of 
mp:ui8h, and stood bewildered and aghast. A few^ faithful 
oilowers surrounded him, and entreated him to fly for his hfe. 
ic would still have remained, to have shared the fortunes of 
lis friend Don Alonzo de Aguilar, and his other companions in 
iiiMB; but the forces of El Zagal were between him and them, 
md death was whistling by on every wind. Eeluctantly, 
hcrofore, he consented to fly. Another horse was brought 
lim: his faithful adalid guided him by one of the steepest 
-•atbs, which lasted for four leagues; the enemy still banging 
•n his traces, and thinning the scanty ranks of his followers, 
it length the marques reached the extremity of the mountain 
t 'tiles, and, with a haggard remnant of his men, escaped by 
iut of hoof to Antiquera. 

'I'he count of Cifuentes, with a Icav of his retainers, in at- 
ompting to follow the marques of Cadiz, wandei'cd into a 
airow pass, w^here they were completely sin-rounded by the 
•ajid of El Zagal. Finding all attempts at escape impossible, 
Jid resistance vain, the worthy count surrendered himself 



^2 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 



prisoner, as did also his brother Don Pedro de Silva, and the , 
few of his retainers who survived. r 

The dawn of day found Don Alonzo de Aguilar, with a hand- 'J 
ful of his followers, still among the mountains. They had" 
attempted to follow the marques of Cadiz, but had been obliged;^ 
to pause and defend themselves against the thickening forces '^' 
of the enemy. They at length traversed the moimtain, and'" 
reached the same valley where the marques had made his last? 
disastrous stand. Wearied and perplexed, they sheltered |^ 
themselves in a natural grotto, under an overhanging rock,} 
wliich kept off the darts of the enemy ; while a bubbling f oun-Jf' 
tain gave them the means of slaking their raging thirst, and^ 
refreshing their exhausted steeds. As day broke, the scene oP 
slaughter unfolded its horrors. There lay the noble brothers!^ 
and nephews of the gallant marques, transfixed with darts, or; 
gashed and bruised with unseemly wounds ; while many other|'' 
gallant cavaliers lay stretched out dead and dying around,* 
some of them partly stripped and plundered by the Moors. De" 
Aguilar was a pious knight, but his piety was not humble*' 
and resigned, like that of the worthy Master of Santiago. He'" 
imprecated holy curses upon the infidels, for having thus laid|' 
low the flower of Christian chivalry; and he vowed in his'^' 
heart bitter vengeance upon the surrounding country. 

By degrees, the little force of De Aguilar was augmented by 
numbers of fugitives, who issued from caves and chasms, 
where they had taken refuge in the night. A little band oi 
mounted knights was gradually formed ; and the Moors having 
abandoned the heights to collect the spoils of the slain, this 
gallant but foiiorn squadron was enabled to retreat to An-jg 
tiquera. • l 

This disastrous affair lasted from Thursday evening, through' 
out Friday, the twenty-first of March, the festival of St. Bene-J'i 
diet. It is still recorded in Spanish calendars, as the defeat oii 
the mountains of Malaga; and the spot where the greatesi:!^ 
slaughter took place, is pointed out to the present day, and isjii; 
called la Cuesta de la Matanza, or The Hill of the Massacre. iii 
The principal leaders who survived, returned to Antiquera ii 
Many of the knights took refuge in Alhama, and other towns ii 
many wandered about the mountains for eight days, living or' ^ 
roots and herbs, hiding themselves during the day, and sally 
ing forth at night. So enfeebled and disheartened were they in 
that they offered no resistance if attacked. Three or foui'- 
soldiers would surrender to a Moorish peasant; and even tiic 



Tim CONqUKST OF UUANADA. C3 

romen of Malaga sallied forth and made prisoners Some 
rez-e tUvowu into tho dimgeons of frontier towns, othersTd 
aptive to Granada; but by far the greater number were con 
ucted to MaIag.^, the city they had threatened to attack Two 
undred and Ifty principal cavaliers, alcaydes. commanded 
ndhidalgos of generous blood, were confined in theAlcazaba 
r citadel of M>daga, to await their ransom; and fi ve l^^S 
nd seventy of the common soldiery were crowded in an en 
losure or coiu-t-yard of the Alcazaba, to be sold as slave " 
Great spoi s were collected of splendid armor and weapons 
ken from the slam, or thrown away by the cavaliers iX r 
ttl^2t '"'■'"^' ^n- «^S™ficentIy caparisoned, together 
;1LZ~t:wns'.^''^^-^" ^'"'^-'^ -^'•'^ ^-^ ^" ^"Wh 
The merchants also who had come with the army, intending 

ie f o'f'traffiV'"^'' "''^'^ ^''""' ^^'^'-^ then/elves 3 
}^\Z w , ^''^"^''^ "^ *'«='" '^ere driven like cattle 
rtore the Moorish viragos, to the market of Malaga and in 

lemseives off at a cheap ransom, they were unable to niir 
>^e their freedom without such draughts upon the^. moL" 
ogs at home, es dramed them to the very bottom. ^ 



CHAPTER XIII. 

f^BOTS OP THE DISASTERS AMONO THE MOUNTAINS OP MALAGA. 

The people Of Antiquera had scarcely recovered from the 
m,Ut of excitement and admiration, caused by the departure 
h^d ^f""* ^^''^f "''"''^"'^'•^ "P"-^ tl^^r f°ray, when tC 
ay after day, and hour after hour, brought some wretched 
k^tive, m whose battered plight, and hagiard, wobegone de- 
eanor It was ahuost impossible to recognise the warrior 
ortlSatet '*'^ ^^^" "^ ^^'^^ ^ ^^--^ ^'-fous^; 

ilh"rl,wtt^']w the marques of Cadiz, almost alone, covered 
ith dust and blood , his armor shattered and defaced, liiscoun, 

* Curu de los Falacios. 



64 THE CONQUEST OF Oil AN A DA. 

tenance the picture of despair, filled every heart with soriow, 
for he was grep.tly beloved by the people. The multitude asked < 
where was the band of brothers which had ralhed round him 
as he went forth to tho field ° and when they heard that they 
had, one by one, been slaughtered at his side, they hushed 
their voices, or spake to each other only in whispers as he 
]oassed, gazing at him in silent sympathy. No one attempted 
to console him in so great an affliction, nor did the good mar-, 
ques speak ever a word, but, shutting himself up, brooded in' 
lonely anguish over his misfortune. It was ordy the arrival of 
Don Alonzo de Aguilar that gave him a gleam of consolation, 
for amidst the shafts of death that had fallen so thickly among 
his family, he rejoiced to find that his chosen friend and 
brother in arms had escaped uninjured. 

For several days every eye was turned, in an agony of sus- 
pense, towards the Moorish border anxiously looking, in every 
fugitive from the mountains, for the lineaments of some friend 
or relation, whose fate was yet a mystery. At length every 
hope and doubt subsided into certainty ; the whole extent of this 
great calamity was known, spreading grief and consternatioD 
throughout the land, and laying desolate the pride and hopes 
of palaces. It was a sorrow that visited the marble haU and; 
silken pillow. Stately dames mourned over the loss of theii 
sons, the joy and glory of their age; and many a fair cheek 
was blanched with wo, that had lately mantled with secret 
admiration. "All Andalusia," says a historian of the time, 
"was overwhelmed by a great affliction; there was no drying 
of the eyes which wept in her," * 

Fea.r and trembling reigned, for a time, along the frontier. 
Their spear seemed broken, their buckler cleft in twain ; every 
border town dreaded an attack, and the mother caught hei 
infant to her bosom when the watch-dog howled in the night, 
fancying it the war-cry of the Moor. All, for a time, seemed 
lost; and despondency even found its way to the royal brepsts 
of Ferdinand and Isabella, amxidst the splendors of their court, 

Great, on the other hand, was the joy of the Moors, wher 
they saw whole legions of Christian warriors brought captivf 
into their towns, by rude mountain peasantry. They though^ 
it the work of Allah in favor of the faithful. But when thej 
recognized, among the captives thus dejected and broken down, 
some of the proudest of Christian cliivalry; when they sais 

* Cura de los Palacios. 



Tllh' CONQUEST OF GRANADA. G5 

several of the banners and devices of the noblest houses of 
Spain, which they had oeen accustomed to behold in the foi-e- 
most of the battle, now trailed iguominiously through their 
streets; when, in short, they witnessed the arrival of the count 
of Cifuentes, the royal standard-bearer of Spain, with his gal- 
lant brother Don Pedro de Silva, brought prisoners into the 
I gates of Granada, there were no bounds to their exultation. 
They thought that the days of their ancient glory were about 
to rctiu-n, ar'^ that they were to renew their career of triumph 
oven* the unbelievers. 

The Christian historians of the time are sorely perplexed to 
account for this misfortune; and why so many Chiistian 
knights, fighting in the cause of the holy faith, should thus 
iiih-aculously, as it were, be given captive to a handful of infidel 
Im.oi-s; for we are assured, that all this rout and destruction 
wan; effected by five hundred foot and fifty horse, and those 
mere mountaineers, w-ithout science or discipline.* "It was 
intended," observes one historiographer, "as a lesson to their 
1 -confidence and vain-glory ; overrating their own prowess, and 
thinking that so chosen a band of chivalry had but to appear 
in the land of the enemy, and conquer. It was to teach them 
that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, 
but that God alone giveth the victory. " 

The worthy father Fray Antonio Agapida, however, asserts 
it to be a punishment for the avarice of the Spanish warriors. 
They did not enter the kingdom of the infidels with the pure 
spirit of Christian knights, zealous only for the glory of the 
faith, but rather as greedy men of traffic, to enrich themselves 
by vending the spoils of the infidels. Instead of preparing 
i themselves by confession and communion, and executing their 
L testaments, and making donations and bequests to churches 
jfemd convents, they thought only of arranging bargains and 
i sales of tlieir anticipated booty. Instead of taking with them 
I holy monks to aid them with their prayers, they were f ollow^ed 
) by a train of trading men, to keep alive their v/orldly and 
'• sordid ideas, and to turn what ought to be holy triumphs into 
E scenes of brawling traffic. Such is the opinion of the excellent 
Agapida, in which he is joined by that most worthy and up- 
right of chroniclers, the curate of Los Palacios. Agapida 
comforts himself, however, with the reflection, that tliis visi- 
tation was meant in mercy, to try the Castilian heart, and to 

I t Cura de los Palacios. 



g(3 , THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

extract, from its present humiliation, the elements oi: future 
success, as gold is extracted from amidst the impurities of 
earth ; and in this reflection he is supported by the venerable 
historian Pedro Abarca, of the society of Jesuits.* 



CHAPTER XIV, 

HOW KING BOABDIL EL CHICO MARCHED OVER THE BORDER. 

The defeat of the Christian cavaliers among the mountains 
of Malaga, and the successful inroad of Muley Aben Hassan 
into the lands of Medina Sidonia, had produced a favorable 
effect on the fortunes of the old monarch. The inconstant 
populace began to shout forth his name in the streets, and to 
sneer at the inactivity of his son Boabdil el Chico. The latter, 
though in the flower of his age, and distinguished for vigor and 
dexterity in jousts and tournaments, had never yet fleshed his 
weapon in the field of battle ; and it was murmured that lie 
preferred the silken repose of the cool halls of the Aihambra, 
to the fatigue and danger of the foray, and the hard encamp- 
ments of the mountains. 

The popularity of these rival kings depended upon their suc- 
cess against the Christians, and Boabdil el Chico found it neces- 
sary to strike some signal blow to counterbalance the late 
triumph of his father. He was further incited by the fierce 
old Moor, his father in-law, Ali Atar, alcayde of Loxa, with 
whom the coals of wrath against the Christians still burned 
among the ashes of age, and had lately been blown into a flame 
by the attack made by Trordinand on the city under his com- 
mand. 

Ah Atar iniormed Boaodil that the late discomfiture of the 
Christian kiiigiito had stripped Andalusia of the prime of her 
chivalry, and broken tJiie spirit of the country. All the frontier 
of Cordova and Ecija now lay open to inroad ; but he especially 
pointed out the city of Lucena as an object of attack, being 
feebly garrisoned, and lying in a country rich in pasturage, 
abounding in cattle and grain, in oil and wine. The fiery old 
Moor spoke from thorough information ; for he had made many 

* Abarca. Aunales de Aragon, Rey 30. cap. 2, § 7. 



TiiK coxQUi':>r of a ha a a da. C7 

an incursion into Ihoso parts, and his very name was a terror 
throughout the eountry. It had become a by-word in the 
garrison of Loxa to call Lucena the garden of Ali Atar, for he 
was accustomed to forage its fertile territories for all his sup- 
plies. 

Boabdil el Chico listened to the persuasions of this veteran 
of the borders. He assembled a force of nine thousand foot 
and seven hundred horse, most of them his own adherents, 
but many the partisans of his father; for both factions, how- 
ever they might figlit among themselves, were ready to unite 
in any expedition against the Christians. Many of the most 
illustrious and valiant of the Moorish nobility assembled round 
his standard, magnificently arrayed in sumptuous armor and 
rich embroidery, as though they were going to a festival or a 
tilt of canes, rather than an enterprise of iron war. Boabdil's 
mother, the sultana Ayxa la Horra, armed him for the field, 
and gave him her benediction as she girded his scimitar to his 
side. His favorite wife Morayma wept, as she thought of the 
evils that might befall him. ' ' Why dost thou v\reep, daughter 
of Ali i^tar ?'' said the high-minded Ayxa: " these tears become 
not the daughter of a Avari*ior, nor the wife of a king. Believe 
me, there lurks more danger for a monarch within the strong- 
walls of a palace, than within the frail curtains of a tent. It 
is by perils in the field, that thy husband must purchase secu- 
rity on his throne." 

But Morayma still hung upon his neck, with tears and sad 
forebodings; and when he departed from the Alhambra, she 
betook herself to her mirador, which looks out over the vcga. 
From thence she watched the army^ as it went, in shining 
order, along the road which leads to Loxa; and ^N^ery burst 
of warlike melody that came swelling on the breeze, was an- 
swered by a gush of sorrow. 

As the royal cavalcade issued from the palace and descended 
through the streets of Granada, the populace greeted their 
youthful sovereign with shouts, and anticipated success that 
should wither the laurels of his father. In passing through 
the gate of Elvira, however, the king accidentally broke his 
lance against the arch. At this, certain of his nobles turned 
pale, and entreated him to turn back, for they regarded it as 
an e\al omen. Boabdil scoffed at their fears, for he considered 
them mere idle fancies; or rather, (says Fray Antonio Aga- 
pida.) he was an incredulous pagan, puffed up with confidence 
and ^'ain-glory. He refused to take another spear, but drew 



68 THE CONQUEST OF OR AN AD A. 

forth his scimitar, and led the way (adds Agapida) in an arro 
gant and haughty style, as though he would set both heaven 
and earth at defiance. Another evil omen was sent, to deter 
him from his enterprise ; arriving at the rambla, or dry ravine 
of Beyro, which is scarcely a bow-shot from the city, a fox ran 
through the whole army, and close by the person of the king ; 
and, though a thousand bolts were discharged at it, escaped 
uninjured to the mountains. The principal courtiers about 
Boabdil now reiterated their remonstrances against proceed- 
ing; for they considered these occurrences as mysterious por- 
tents of disasters to their army ; the king, however, was not to 
be dismayed, but continued to march forward.* 

At Loxa, the royal army was reinforced by old Ali Atar, 
with the chosen horsemen of his garrison, and many of the 
bravest warriors of the border towns. The people of Loxa 
shouted with exultation, when they beheld Ali Atar, armed 
at all points, and once more mounted on his Barbary steed, 
which had often borne him over the borders. The veteran 
warrior, with nearly a century of years upon his head, had all 
the fire and animation of youth, at the prospect of a foray, and 
careered from rank to rank with the velocity of an Arab of 
the desert. The populace watched the army, as it paraded 
over the bridge, and wound into the passes of the mountains ; 
and still their eyes were fixed upon the pennon of Ali Atar, as 
if it bore with it an assurance of victory. 

The Moorish army entered the Christian frontier by forced 
marches, hastily ravaging the country, driving off the flocks 
and herds, and making captives of the inhabitants. They 
pressed on furiously, and made the latter part of their march 
in the night, that they might elude observation, and come upon 
Lucena by surprise. Boabdil was inexperienced in the art of 
war, but he had a veteran counsellor in his old father-in-law; 
for Ali Atar knew every secret of the country, and, as he 
prowled through it, his eye ranged over the land, uniting, in 
its gla,re, the craft of the fox with the sanguinary ferocity of 
the wolf. He had flattered himself that their march had been 
so rapid as to outstrip inteihgence, and that Lucena would 
be an easy capture ; when suddenly he beheld alarm-fires blaz- 
ing upon the mountains. "We are discovered," said he to 
Boabdil el Chico ; ' ' the country will be up in arms ; we have 
nothing left but to strike boldly for Lucena ; it is but slightly 

* Marmol. Rebe). de los Moros, lib. 1, c. xi>. fol H. 



THE CONQUEST OE GRANADA. 09 

garrisoned, and we may carry it by assault before it can re- 
ceive assistance," The king approved of his counsel, and they 
marched rapidly for the gate of Lucena. 



CHAPTER XV. 



POW THE COUNT DE CABRA SALLIED FORTH FROM HIS OASTLB;^ 
IN QUEST OP KING BOABDIL. 

Don Diego de Cordova, count of Cabra, was in the casile of 
Vaena, which, with the town of the same name, is situated on 
a lofty sun-burnt hill on the frontier of the kingdom of Cor- 
dova, and but a few leagues from Lucena. The range of 
mountains of Horquera lie between them. The castle of 
Vaena was stj'ong, and well furnished with anns, and the 
count had a numerous band of vassals and retainers; for it 
behoved the noblemen of the frontiers, in those times, to be 
well prepared with man and horse, with lance and buckler, to 
resist the sudden incursions of the Moors. Tlie count of Cabra 
was a hardy and experienced warrior, shrewd in council, 
prompt in action, rapid and fearless in the field. He was one 
of the bravest cavaliers for an inroad, and had been quick- 
ened and sharpened, in thought and action, by living on the 
borders. 

On the night of the 20th of April, 1483, the count was about 
to retire to rest, when the watchman from the turret brought 
him word that there were alarm-fires on the mountains of 
Horquera, and that they were made on the signal-tower over- 
hanging the defile through which the road passes to Cabra and 
Ijucena. 

The count ascended the battlement, and beheld five lights 
blazing on the tower, — a sign that there was a Moorish army 
attacking some place on the frontier. The count instantly 
ordered the alarm-bells to be sounded, and dispatched couriers 
to rouse the commanders of the neighboring towns. He 
ordered all his retainers to prepare for action, and sent a 
trumpet through the town, summoning the men to assemble 
at the castle-gate at daybreak, armed and equipped for the 
field. 

Throughout the remainder of the night, the castle resounded 



70 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. - 

with a din of preparation. Every house in the town was in 
equal bustle ; for in these frontier towns, every house had its 
warrior, and the lance and buckler were ever hanging against 
the wall, ready to be snatched down for instant service. Noth- 
ing was heard but the din of armorers, the shoeing of studs, 
and furbishing up of weapons ; and, all night long, the alarm- 
fires kept blazing on the mountains. 

When the morning dawned, the count of Cabra salhed forth, 
at the head of two hundred and fifty cavaliers, of the best 
families of Vaena, all well appointed, exercised in arms, and 
experienced in the warfare of the borders. There were, be- 
sides, twelve hundred foot-soldiers, all brave and well seasoned 
men of the same town. The count ordered them to hasten 
forward, whoever could make most speed, taking the road to 
Cabra, which was tliree leagues distant. That they might not 
loiter on the road, he allowed none of them to break their fast 
until they arrived at that place. The provident count dis- 
jDatched couriers in advance, and the little army, on reaching 
Cabra, found tables spread with food and refreslunents, at the 
gates of the town. Here they were joined by Don Alonzo de 
Cordova, Senior of Zuheros. 

Having made a hearty repast, they were on the point of re- 
suming their march, when the count discovered, that, in the 
hurry of liis departure from home, he had forgotten to bring 
the standard of Vaena, which for upwards of eighty years had 
always been borne to battle by his family. It was now noon, 
and there was not time to return ; he took, therefore, the stan- 
dard of Cabra, the device of which is a goat, and which had 
not been seen in the wars for the last half century. When 
about to depart, a courier came galloping at full speed, bring- 
ing missives to the count from his nephew, Don Diego Fernan- 
dez de Cordova, Senior of Lucena and alcayde de los Donzeles, 
entrea^ting him to hasten to his aid, as his town was beset by 
the Moorish king Boabdil el Chico, with a powerful army, who 
were actually setting fire to the gates. 

The count put his little army instantly in movement for Lu- 
cena, which is only one league from Cabra ; he was fired with 
the idea of having the Moorish king in person to contend with. 
By the time he reached Lucena, the Moors had desisted from 
the attack, and were ravaging the surrounding country. He 
entered the town with a few of his cavaliers, and was received 
with joy by his nephew, whose whole force consisted but of 
eighty horse and three hundred Joot. Don Diego Fernandez 



TllhJ COAQUliST OF U RAX ADA. 7] 

d^ Cordova was a young man, yet ho w;is a |)nident, careful, 
an J capable officer. Having learnt, the evening before, tliav 
tlie Moors had passo . the frontiers, he had gathered within hia 
walls all the women and children from the environs; J 
armed the men sent couriers in all directions for succor, and 
had lighted alarm-fires on the mountains. 

Boabdil had ari-ived with his army at daybreak, and ha(f 
sent in a message threatening to put the garrison to the sword 
if the place we: ^ not instantly surrendered. The messengei 
was a ]\Ioor of Granada, named Hamet, whom Don Diego had 
formerly know.^.: he contrived to amuse him with negotiation, 
to gain time for succor to arrive. The fierce old Ali Atai*, los- 
ing all patience, had made an assault upon the town, and 
stormed like a fury at the gate; but had been repulsed. An- 
other and ^^ore serious attack was expected, in the coui*se cf 
the night. 

When the count de Cabra had heard this account of the sit- 
uation of affairs, he turned to his nephew with his usual alac- 
rity of mL.auer, and proposed that they should immediately 
sally foi on m quest of the enemy. The prudent Don Diego re 
mons-trated at the rashness of attacking so great a force with a 
mere handful of men. "Nephew," said the count, "I came 
from V aena with a determination to fight this Moorish king, 
and i will not be disappointed." 

''At a.ny rate," re^jlied Don Diego, "let us wait but two 
■L...--S, and we shall have reinforcements which have been 
promised me from Rambla, Santaella, Montilla, and other 
places m the neighborhood." "If we await these," said the 
hardy count, "the Moors will be off, and all our trouble will 
have been in vain. You may await them, if you please ; I am 
resolved on fighting." 

The count paused for no reply ; but, in his prompt and rapid 
manner, sallied forth to liis men. The young alcayde de los 
Donzele., though more prudent than his ardent uncle, was 
e(iually brave ; he determined to stand by him in his rash en- 
terprise, and, summoning his little force, marched forth to join 
t\. count, who was already on the move. They then pro- 
ceeded together in quest of the enemy. 

The Moorish army had ceased ravaging the country, and 
were not to be seen, — the neighborhood being hilly, and 
broken vnili deep ravines. The count dispatched six scouts 
on horsebac^ : to reconnoitre, ordering them to retin*n with all 
speed when they should have discovered the enemy, and by 



72 THE aO]S'qUKST OF GRA^'ADA. 

no means to engage in skirmishing with stragglers. The 
scouts, r.scending a high hill, beheld the Moorish army in a 
valley behind it, the cavalry ranged in five ba^ttalions keeping 
guard, v/hiie the foot-soldiers were seated on the grass making 
a repast. They returned immediately with the intelligence. 

The count now ordered the troops to march in the direction 
of the enemy. He and his nephew ascended the hill, and saw 
that the five battalions of Moorish cavalry had been formed 
into two, one of about Dine hundred lances, the other of about 
six hundred. The whole force seemed prepared to march for 
the frontier. The foot- soldiers were already under way, with 
many prisoners, and a great train of mules and beasts of bur- 
den, laden with booty. At a distance was Boabdil el Chico : 
they could not distinguish his person, but they knew him by 
his superb white charger, magnificently caparisoned, and by 
his being surrounded by a numerous guard, sumptuously 
armed and attired. Old Ali Atar was careering about the 
valley with his usual impatience, hurrying the march of the 
loitering troops. 

The eyes of the count de Cabra ghstened with eager joy, as 
he beheld the royal prize within his reach. IJie immense dis- 
parity of their forces never entered into his mind. " By San- 
tiago !" said he to his nephew, as they hastened down the hill, 
"had we waited for more forces, the Moorish king and his 
army would have escaped us !" 

The count now harangued his men, to inspirit them to his 
hazardous encounter. He told them not to be dismayed at the 
number of Moors, for God often permitted the few to conquer 
the many ; and he had great confidence, that, through the di- 
vine aid, they were that day to achieve a signal victory, which 
should win them both riches and renown. He commanded 
that no man should hurl his lance at the enemy, but should 
keep it in his hands, and strike as many blows with it as he 
could. He warned them, also, never to shout except when 
the Moors did ; for, when both armies shouted together, there 
was no perceiving which made the most noise and was the 
strongest. He desired his uncle Lope de Mendoza, and Diego 
Cabrera, alcayde of Monica, to alight and enter on foot in the 
battalion of infantry, to animate them to the combat. He 
appointed, axso, the alcayde of Va,ena and Diego de Clavijo. a 
cavalier of his household, to remain in the rear, and not to 
permit any one to lag behind, either to despoil the dead, or for 
any other purpose. 



TIII^: CONQUKST OF GRANADA. 7;] 

Biich were the orders given by this most adroit, active, and 
intrepid cavalier, to his little army, sujjjilying, by admira])lc 
sagacity and subtle management, the want of a CiOre numer- 
ous force. His orders being given, and all arrangements made, 
he threw aside his lance, drew his sword, and commanded his 
standard to be advanced against the enemy. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE BATTLE OP LUCENA. 

The Moorish king had descried the Spanish forces at a dis- 
tance, although a slight fog prevented his seeing them dis- 
tinctly, and ascertaining their numbers. His old father-in-law, 
Ali Atar, Avas by his side, who, being a veteran marauder, wa8 
well acquainted mth all the standards and armorial bearings 
of the frontiei-s. When the king beheld the ancient and long- 
disused banner of Cabra emerging from the mist, he turned to 
Ali Atar, and demanded whose ensign it was. The old bor- 
derer was for once at a loss, for the banner had not been dis- 
played in battle in his time. " Sire," replied he, after a pause, 
"I have been considering that standard, but do not know it. 
It appears to be a dog, which device is borne by the towns of 
Bacza and Ubeda. If it be so, all Andalusia is in movement 
against you ; for it is not probable that any single commander 
or community would venture to attack you. I would advise 
you, therefore, to retire." 

The count de Cabra, in winding down the hill towards the 
Moors, found himself on much lower gTOund than the enemy : 
he ordered in all haste that his standard should be taken 
back, so as to gain the vantage ground. The Moors, mistaking 
this for a retreat, rushed iinpetuously tow^ards the Christians. 
Tlie latter, having gained the height proposed, charged down 
upon them at the same moment, with the battle-cry of " Santi- 
ago I" and, dealing the first blows, laid many of the Moorish 

I cavaliers in the dust. 

: The Moors, thus checked in their tumultuous assault, were 

' thrown into confusion, and began to give way, the Christians 
following hard upon them. Boabdil el Cliico endeavored to rally 

i them. "Hold! hold! for shame!" cried he: " let us not flv, at 



74 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

least until we know our enemy." The Moorish chivahy were 
siiung Ly this reproof, and turned to make front, with the 
valor of men who feel that they are fighting under their mon- 
arch's eye. 

A% this miyment, Lorenzo de Porres, alcayde of Luque, 
arrived with St't^^ horse and one hundred foot, sounding an 
Italian trumpet frt>m among a copse of oak trees, which con- 
cealed his force. Tiie ^uick ear of old Ali Atar cpvUght the 
note. ' ' That is an Itahaii trumpet, " said he to the king ; ' ' the 
whole world seems in arms against your majesty !" 

The trumpet of Lorenzo db Porres was answered by that of 
the count de Cabra, in another direction, and it seemed to the 
liloors as if they were between two armies. Don Lorenzo, 
sallying from among the oaks, now charged upon the enemy : 
the la tter did not wait to ascertain the force of this new foe ; 
the confusion, the variety of alarums, the attacks from oppo- 
site quarters, the obscurity of the fog, all conspired to deceive 
them as to the number of their adversaries. Broken and dis- 
mayed, they retreated fighting ; and nothing but the presence 
and remonstrance of the king prevented their retreat from 
becoming a headlong flight. 

This skirmishing retreat lasted for about three leagues. 
Many were the acts of individual prowess between Christian 
and Moorish knights, and the way was strewed with the 
flower of the king's guards and of his royal household. At 
length they came to the rivulet of Mingonzales, the verdant 
banks of which were covered v/ith willows and tamarisks. It 
was swoln by recent rain, rmd was now a deep and turbid tor- 
rent. 

Here the king made a courageous stand with a small body 
of cavalry, while his baggage crossed the stream. None but 
the choicest and most loyal of his giiards stood by their mon- 
arch, in this hour of extremity. The foot-soldiers took to 
flight, the moment they passed the ford ; many of the horse- 
men, partaking of the general panic, gave reins to their steeds 
and scoured for the frontier. The little host of devoted cava- 
liers now serried their forces in front of their monarch, to pro- 
tect his retreat. They fought hand to hand with the Christian 
wa,rriors, disdaining to yield or to ask for quarter. The 
ground was covered with the dead and dying. The king, hav- 
ing retreated along the river banks, and gained some distance 
from the scene of combat, looked back, and saw the loyal band 
at length give way. They crossed the ford, followed pell-mell 



THE CONQUEST OF ORANADA. 75 

by the enemy, and several of them weie struck down into tlio 
stream. 

The king now dismounted from his white charger, whoso 
color and rich caparison made him too conspicuous, and en- 
deavored to conceal himself among the thickets which iringod 
the river. A soldier of Lucena, named Martin Hurtado, dis- 
covered him, and attacked him with a pike. The king de- 
fended himself with scimitar and target, until another soldier 
assailed him, and he saw a third approaching. Perceivii;g 
that further resistance would be voin, he drew back and 
called upon them to desist, offering them a noble ransom. 
One of the soldiers laished forward to seize him, but the king 
struck him to the earth with a blow of his scimitar. 

Don Diego Fernandez do Cordova coming up at this 
moment, the men said to him, "Seiior, here is a Moor that we 
have taken, who seems to be a man of rank, and offers a large 
ransom." 

" Slaves !" exclaimed king Boabdil, " you have not taken me. 
I surrender to this cavaher." 

Don Diego received him with knightly courtesy. He per- 
ceived him to be a person of high rank; but the king concealed 
his quality, and gave himself out as the son of Aben Aleyzar, 

nobleman of the royal household.* Don Diego gave him in 
charge of five soldiers, to conduct him to the castle of Lucena; 
then, putting spurs to his horse, he hastened to rejoin the 
Bount de Cabra, Avho was in hot pui-suit of the enemy. He 
overtook him at a stream called Eianaul; and they continued 
bo press on the skirts of the flying anny, during the remainder 
of the day. Tlie pursuit was almost as hazardous as the battle ; 
|for, had the enemy at any time recovered from their panic, 
they might, by a sudden reaction, have overwhelmed the small 
force of their pursuers. To guard against this peril, the wary 
pount kept his battalion always in close order, and had a body 
)f a hundred chosen lancers in the advance. The Moors kept 
apa Parthian retreat; several times they turned to malce bat . 
5le; but, seeing tliis solid body of steeled warriors pressing 
ipon them, they again took to flight. 

The main retreat of the army was along the valley watered 
)y theXenel, and opening through the mountains of Algaringo 
» the city of Loxa. The alarm-fires of the preceding nig] it 
lad roused the country; every man snatched sword and 

* Garibay, Ub. 40, c. 31. 



76 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

t, 
buckler from the wall, and the towns and villages poured forth \ 
their warriors to harass the retreating foe. A]i Atar kept the ; 
main force of the army together, and turned fiercely from time ' 
to time upon his pursuers ; he was ]ike a woli, hunted through | 
the country he had often made desolate by his maraudings. 

The alarm of this invasion had reached the city of Antiquera, I 
where were several of the cavaliers who had escaped from thej 
carnage in the mountains of Malaga. Their proud minds were 1 
festering with their late disgrace, and their only prayer Yv-a&!| 
for vengeance on the infidels. No sooner did they hear of the; 
Moor being over the border, than they were armed and) 
mounted for action. Don Alonzo de Aguilar led them forth ;— ; 
a small body of but forty horsemen, but all cavahers of prowess, 
and tliir sting for revenge. They came upon the foe on the' 
banks of the Xenel, where it winds through the valleys oi 
Cordova. The river, swelled by the late rains, was deef 
and turbulent, and only fordable at certain places. The mair I 
body of the army was gathered in confusion on the banks, 
endeavoring to ford the stream, protected by the cavalry oJ 
Ali Atar. 

No sooner did the Mttle band of Alonzo de Aguilar come m 
sight of the Moors, than fury flashed from their eyes. "Ee- 
member the mountains of Malaga !" they cried to each other, 
as they rushed to combat. Their charge was desperate, bul | 
was gallantly resisted. A scrambling and bloody fight ensued ! 
hand to hand and sword to sword, sometimes on land, some I 
times in the water. Many were lanced on the banks ; others; 
throwing themselves into the river, sunk with the weight oJ'^ 
their armor, and were drowned ; some, grappling together, f el j 
from their horses, but continued their struggle in the waves,;, 
and helm and turban rolled together down the stream. Thdj 
Moors were far greater in number, and among them werdi 
many warriors of rank; but they were disheartened by defeati' 
while the Christians were excited even to desperation. 

Ali Atar alone preserved all his fire and energy amid hif ' 
reverses. He had been enraged at the defeat of the army, the 
loss of the king, and the ignominious flight he had been obMgec 
to make through a country which had so often been the seen; 
of his exploits: but to be thus impeded in his flight, an( 
harassed and insulted by a mere handful of warriors, rouse' 
the violent passions of the old Moor to perfect frenzy. He hat 
marked Don Alonzo de Aguilar dealing his blows (says Aga 
Dida) with the pious vehemence of a righteous knight, whii 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 77 

knows that in every wound inflicted upon the infidels, he is 
doing God service. Ali A tar spurred his steed along the bank 
of the river, to come upon Don Alonzo by surprise. The back 
of the warrior was towards him ; and, collecting all his force 
the Moor hurled his lance to transfix him on the spot. The 
lance was not thrown with the usual accuracy of Ali Atar ; it 
tore away apart of the cuirass of Don ^Vlonzo, but failed to in- 
flict a wound. The Moor rushed upon Don Alonzo with his 
^scimitar; but the latter was on the alert, and parried his blow. 
jThey fought desperately upon the borders of the river, alter- 
jnately pressing each other into the stream, and fighting their 
way again up the bank. Ali Atar was repeatedly wounded; 
and Don Alonzo, having pity on his age, would have spared 
I his fife; he called upon him to surrender. "Never," cried Ali 
i^tar, " to a Christian dog!" The words were scarce out of his 
I mouth, when the sword of Don Alonzo clove his turbaned 
ihead, and sank deep into the brain. He fell dead, without a 
Ijgroan; his body rolled into the Xenel, nor was it ever found 
iind recognised.* Thus fell Ah Atar, who had long been the 
terror of Andalusia. As he had hated and warred upon tlie 
rChristians all his life, so he died in the very act of bitter 
hostility. 

The fall of Ali Atar put an end to the transient stand of the 
mvalry. Horse and foot mingled together, in the desperate 
struggle across the Xenel ; and many were trampled down, and 
oerished beneath the waves. Don Alonzo and his band'con- 
inued to harass them until they crossed the frontier; and 
^very blow, struck home to the Moors, seemed to lighten the 
iioad of humiliation and sorrow wliich had weighed heavy on 
jpheir hearts. 

'I In this disastrous rout, the Moors lost upwards of five thou- 
^nd killed and made prisoners ; many of whom were of the 
iiost noble lineages of Granada: numbers fled to rocks and 
nountains, where they were subsequently taken. 
This battle was called, by some, the battle of Lucena; by 
t iH-rs, the battle of the Moorish king, because of the capture 
1 Roabdil. Twenty-two banners fell into the hands of the 
'Inistians, and were carried to Vaena, and hung up in the 
hurch; where (says a historian of aftor-times) they remain 
this day. Once a year, on the day of St. George, they are 
^^bout in procession, by the inhabitants, who at the same 



orne 



Cura do los Palacios. 



78 TUE CONQUEST OF GEANADA. 

time give thaiiks to Grod for this signal victory granted to theif 
forefathers. 

Great was the triumph of the count de Cabra, when, on re- 
turning from the pursuit of the enemy, he found that the 
Moorish king had fallen into his hands. ¥7hen the unfortu- 
nate Boabdil was brought before him, however, and he beheld 
him a dejected captive, whom but shortly before he had seen 
in royal splendor, surrounded by his army, the generous heart 
of the count was touched by sympathy. He said every thing 
that became a courteous and Christian knight, to comfort him ; 
observing that the same mutabihty of things which had sud- 
denly destroyed his recent prosperity, might cause his present 
misfortunes as rapidly to pass away ; smce in this world noth- 
ing is stable, and even sorrow has its allotted term. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

LAMENTATIONS OF THE MOORS FOR THE BATTLE OF LUCENA. 

The sentinels looked out from the watch-towers of Loxa,| 
along the valley of the Xenel, which passes through the moun^ 
tains of Algaringo. They looked to behold the king returning 
in triumph, at the head of his shining host, laden with tht 
spoil of the unbeliever. They looked to behold the standard 
of their warlike idol, the fierce Ali Atar, borne by the chivalry 
of Loxa, ever foremost in the wars of the border. 

In the evening of the 21st of April, they descried a single 
horseman urging his faltermg steed along the banks of th( 
Xenel. As he drew near, they perceived, by the flash of arms 
that he was a warrior, and on nearer approach, by the richness 
of his armor and the caparison of his steed, they knew him t( 
be a warrior of rank. 

' He reached Loxa, faint and aghast; his Arabian coursej 
covered with foam, and dust, and blood, panting and stagger 
ing with fatigue, and gashed with wounds. Having brough 
his master in safety, he sunk down and died before the gate o 
the city. The soldiers at the gate gathered round the cavalier 
as he stood mute and melancholy by his expiring steed ; the} 
knew hun to be the gallant Cidi Caleb, nephew of the chie. 
alfaqui of the Albaycin of Granada. When the people of Loxt 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 79 

behold this noble cavalier, thus alone, haggard and dejected, 
their hearts were filled with fearfid lorcbodings. 

"Cavalier," said they, "how lares it with the king and 
army?" 

He cast his hand mournfully towards the land of the Chris- 
tiaus. " There they lie !" exclaimed he. "The heavens have 
fallen upon them. All are lost ! all dead !" * 

Upon this, there was a great cry of consternation among the 
people, and loud wailings of women: for the flower of the 
youth of Loxa were Avith the army. 

An old Moorish soldier, scarred in many a border battle, 
stood leaning on his lance by the gateway. "Where is Ali 
Atar?" demanded he eagerly. "If he lives, the army cannot 
be lost." 

"I saw his turban cleaved by the Christian sword," rephed 
Cidi Caleb. " His body is floating in the Xenel." 

When the soldier heard these words, he smote his breast and 
threw dust upon his head ; for he was an old follower of Ali 
Atar. 

The noble Cidi Caleb gave himself no repose, but mounting 
another steed, hastened to carr^r the disastrous tidings to 
Granada. As he passed through the villages and hamlets, he 
spread sorrow around; for their chosen men had followed the 
■king to the wai-s. 

; When he entered the gates of Granada, and announced the 

'loss of the king and army, a voice of hoi-ror went throughout 

'the city. Every one thought but of his own share in the 

;general calamity, and crowded round the bearer of ill tidings. 

One asked after a father, another after a brother, some after a 

lover, and many a mother after her son. His rephes were 

still of wounds and death. To one he replied, ' ' I saAv thy 

father pierced with a lance, as he defended the person of the 

king." To another, "Thy brother fell wounded under the 

hoois of the horses ; but there was no time to aid him, for the 

Christian cavalry were upon us." To another, "I saw the 

horse of thy lover, covered with blood and galloping without 

his rider." To another, "Thy son fought by my side, on the 

banks of the Xenel: we were surrounded by the enemy, and 

1 riven into the stream. I heard him cry upon Allah, in tho 

iiidst of the waters : when I reached the other bank, he was 

10 longer by my side. " 

* Cura de los Falacios. 



80 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

The noble Cidi Caleb passed on, leaving all Granada in 
lamentation ; he urged his steed up the steep avenue of trees 
and fountains that leads to the Alhambra, nor stopped until he 
arrived before the gate of Justice. Ayxa, the nj other of Boa.b- 
dil, and Morayma, his beloved and tender wife, had daily 
watched from the tower of Gomeres, to behold his trium- 
phant return. Who shall describe their affliction, when they 
heard the tidings of Cidi Caleb? The sultana Ayxa spake 
not much, but sate as one entranced in wo. Every now and 
then, a deep sigh burst forth, but she raised her eyes to heaven : 
" It is the will of Allah!" said she, and with these words en- 
deavored to repress the agonies of a mother's sorrow. The 
tender Morayma threw herself on the earth, and gave way to 
tne full turbulence of her feelings, bewailing her husband and 
her father. The high-minded Ayxa rebuked the violence of 
her grief: "Moderate these transports, my daughter," said 
she ; ' ' remember magnanimity should be the attribute of 
princes ; it becomes not them to give way to clamorous sorrow, 
like common and vulgar minds. " But Morayma could only 
deplore her loss, with the anguish of a tender woman. She 
shut herself up in her mirador, and gazed all day, with stream- 
ing eyes, upon the vega. Every object before her recalled 
the causes of her affliction. The river Xenel, which ran 
shining amidst the groves and gardens, was the same on whose 
banks had perished her father, Ali Atar ; before her lay the 
road to Loxa, by which Boabdil had departed, in martial state, 
surrounded by the chivalry of Granada. Ever and anon she 
would burst into an agony of grief. " Alas! my father!" she 
would exclaim ; ' ' the river runs smiling before me, that covers 
thy mangled remains; who will gather them to an honored 
tomb, in the land of the unbeliever? And thou, O Boabdil, 
light of my eyes ! joy of my heart ! life of my life ! wo the 
day, and wo the hour, that I saw thee depart from these 
walls. The road by which thou hast departed is solitary; 
never will it be gladdened by thy return ! the mountain thou 
hast traversed lies like a cloud in the distance, and aU beyond 
it is darkness." 

The royal minstrels were summoned to assuage the sorrows 
of the queen: they attuned their instruments to cheerful 
strains ; but in a little while the anguish of their hearts pre- 
vailed, and turned their songs to lamentations. 

"Beautiful Granada!" they exclaimed, "how is thy glory 
faded! The Vivarrambla no longer echoes to the tramp of 



TllK CONQUEST OF Gil AN AD A. 81 

I steed and sound oi; trumpet ; no longer is it crowded with thy 
i youthful nobles, eager to display their i)ro\voss in the tourney 
land the festive tilt of reeds. Alas! the flower of thy chivalry 
i lies low in a foreign land ! the soft note ot the lute is no longer 
[heard in thy moonlit streets; the lively castanet is silent 
1 upon thy hills ; and the graceful dance of the Zambra is no 
more seen beneath thy bowers. Behold, the Alhambra is for- 
lorn and desolate ! in vain do the orange and myrtle breathe 
their perfumes into its silken chambers; in vain docs tlie 
nightingale sing within its groves ; in vain are its marble halls 
refreshed by the sound of fountains and the gush of limpid 
rills. Alas! the countenance of the king no longer shines 
within those halls; the light of the Alhambra is set for ever!" 
Thus all Granada, say the Arabian chroniclers, gave itself 
up to lamentation : there was notliing but the voice of wailing, 
from the palace to the cottage. All joined to deplore their 
youthful monarch, cut down in the freshness and promise of 
his youth ; many feared that the prediction of the astrologers 
was about to be fulfilled, and that the downfall of the king- 
dom woidd follow the death of Boabdil ; while all declared, 
that had he survived, he was the very sovereign calculated to 
restore the realm to its ancient prosperity and glory. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



'how MULEY AtJEN HASSAN PROFITED BY THE MISFORTUNES OP 
HIS SON BOABDIL. 

; An unfortunate death atones, with the world, for a multitude 
!of errors. While the populace thought their youtliLul mon- 
arch had perished in the field, nothing could exceed their grief 
for his loss, and their adoration of his memory ; when, how 
ever, they learnt that he was still alive, and had surrendered 
himself captive to the Christians, their feelings underwent an 
instant change. They decried his talents as a commander, his 
courage as a soldier ; they railed at his expedition, as rash and 
iU conducted ; and they reviled him for not having dared to 
die on the field of battle, rather than sm-render to the enemy. 
' Tlie alfaquis, as usual, mingled with the populace and art- 
ifully guided their discontents. "Behold," exclaimed they, 

W 



^2 ^'^^ CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

" the prediction is accomplished, which was pronounced at the 
birth of Boabdil. He has been seated on the throne, and the 
kingdom has suffered downfall and disgrace by his defeat and 
captivity. Comfort yourselves, O Moslems ! The evil day has 
passed by ; the fates are satisfied ; the sceptre which has been 
broken in the feeble hand of Boabdil, is destined to resume its 
former power and sway in the vigorous grasp of Aben Has-^ 
san." 

The people were struck with the wisdom of these words: 
they rejoiced that the baleful prediction, which had so long 
hung over them, was at an end; and declared, that none but 
Muley Aben Hassan had the valor and capacity necessary fori 
the protection of the kingdom, in this time of trouble. 

The longer the captivity of Boabdil continued, the greater] 
grew the popularity of his father. One city after another re- 
newed allegiance to hun ; for power attracts power, and for- 
tune creates fortune. At length he was enabled to return to 
Granada, and estabhsh himself once more in the Alhambra. 
At his approach, his repudiated spouse^ the sultana Ayxa, 
gathered together the family and treasures of her captive son, 
and retired, with a handful of the nobles, into the Albaycin, the 
rival quarter of the city, the inhabitants of which still retained 
feelings of loyalty to Boabdil. Here she fortified herself, and 
held the semblance of a court in the name of her son. The 
fierce Muley Aben Hassan would have willingly carried fire 
and sword into this factious quarter of the capital; but he 
dared not confide in his new and uncertain popularity. 
Many of the nobles detested him for his past cruelty ; and a 
large portion of the soldiery, beside many of the people of his 
own party, respected the virtues of Ayxa la Horra, and pitied 
the misfortunes of Boabdil. i 

Granada therefore presented the singular spectacle of twod 
sovereignties within the same city. The old king fortified him-i 
self in the lofty towers of the Alhambra, as much against his 
own subjects as against the Christians ; while Ayxa, with the 
zeal of a mother's affection, which waxes warmer and warmer 
towards her offspring when in adversity, still maintained the 
standard of Boabdil on the rival fortress of the Alcazaba, 
and kept his powerful faction alive within the walls of the 
Albaycin. 



THE CO?lQUICIST OF UllA^ADA. HIi 

CHAPTER XIX. 

CAPTIVITY OF BOADDIL EL CHICO. 

! 

' The unfortunate Boabdil remained a prisoner, closely 
guarded, in the castle of Vaena. From the towers of his 
prison, he beheld the town below filled with armed men ; and 
. the lofty hill on which it was built, girdled by massive walls 
i and ramparts, on which a vigilant watcli was maintained 
night and day. The mountains around were studded with 
watch-towers, overlooking the lonely roads which led to Gra- 
* nada, so that a turban could not stir over the border without 
the alarm being given, and the wiiole country put on the 
alert. Boabdil saw that there was no hope of escape from 
1 such a fortress, and that any attempt to rescue him would be 
equally in vain. His heart was filled with anxiety, as he 
thought on the confusion and ruin which his captivity must 
cause in his afiiairs ; while sorrows of a softer kind overcame 
'his fortitude, as he thought on the evils it might bring upon 
I his family. 

! The count de Cabra, though he maintained the most vigilant 
guard over his royal prisoner, yet treated him with profound 
[deference; he had appointed the noblest apartments in the 
castle for his abode, and sought in every way to cheer him 
during his captivity. A few days only had passed away, when 
missives arrived from the Castilian sovereigns. Ferdinand 
had been transported with joy at hearing of the capture of the 
Moorish monarch, seeing the deep and i^olitic uses that might 
be made of such an event; but the magnanimous spirit of 
Isabella was filled with compassion for the unfortunate cap- 
tive. Their messages to Boabdil were full of sympathy and 
ponsolation, breathing that high and gentle courtesy which 
dwells in noble minds. 

i This magiianimity in his foe cheered the dejected spirit of 
ifche captive monarch. "Tell my sovereigns, the king and 
queen," said he to the messenger, " that I cannot be unhappy, 
being in the power of such high and mighty princes, espe- 
cially since they partake so largely of that grace and goodness 
which Allah bestows upon the monarchs whom he greatly 
'oves. Tell them further, that I had long thought of submit- 
, jking myself to theu* sway, to receive the kingdom of Granada 



84 THE CONQUEST OF GBANADA. 

from their hands, in the same manner that my aneestor re- 
ceived it from King John II., father to the gracious queen. 
My greatest sorrow in this my captivity, is, that I must appear 
to do tliat from force, which I would fain have done from 
inchnation." 

In the mean time, Muley Aben Hassan, finding the faction i 
of his son still formidable in Granada, was anxious to consoli- 
date his power, by gaining possession of the person of BoabdiL , 
For tliis purpose, he sent an embassy to the Catholic monarchs, : 
offering large tei'ms for the ransom, or rather the purchase, of: 
his son; proposing, among other conditions, to release the' 
count of Cifuentes and nine other of his most distinguished' 
captives, and to enter into a treaty of confederacy with the 
sovereigns. Neither did the implacable father make any 
scruple of testifying his indifference whether his son were 
delivered up alive or dead, so that his person were placed 
assuredly within his power. 

The humane heart of Isabella revolted at the idea of giving 
up the unfortunate prince into the hands of his most un- 
natural and inveterate enemy : a disdainful refusal was there- 
fore returned to the old monarch, whose message had been 
couched in a vaunting spirit. He was informed that the Cas- 
tilian sovereigns would hsten to no proposals of peace from 
Muley Aben Hassan, until he should lay down his arms, and 
offer them in aU humility. 

Overtures in a different spirit were made by the mother oi 
Boabdil, the sultana Ayxa la Horra, with the concurrence oi 
the party which stiU remained faithful to him. It was thereby 
proposed, that Mahomet AbdaUa, otherwise called Boabdil,' 
should hold liis crown as vassal to the Castilian sovereigns, 
paying an annual tribute, and releasing seventy Christiar 
captives annually, for five years : that he should, moreover, 
pay a large siun, upon the spot, for his ransom, and at the saint 
time give freedom to four kundred Christians to be chosen bj 
the king: that he should also engage to be always ready tc 
render military aid, and should come to the Cortes, or assem 
blage of nobles and distinguished vassals of the crown, when 
ever summoned. His only son, and the sons of twelve distin 
guished Moorish houses, were to be delivered as hostages. 

King Ferdinand was at Cordova when he received this pre 
position. Queen Isabella was absent at the time. He wai 
anxious to consult her in so momentous an affair ; or rathei: 
he was fearful of proceedinp; too precipitately, and not draw 



Tllli: CONQUEST OF U RAN AD A. 85 

\t\^ from this fortunate event all the advantage of which it 
was susceptible. Without returning any reply, therefore, to 
the mission, he sent missives to the castle of Vaena, where 
Boabdil remained in coiu-teous durance of the brave count do 
Cabra, ordering that the captive monarch should be brought 
to Cordova. 

The count de Cabra set out, with his illustrious prisoner; 
but when he arrived at Cordova, king Ferdinand declined see- 
ing the Moorish monorch. He was still undetermined what 
course to pursue, — whether to retain him prisoner, set him at 
liberty on ransom, or treat him with politic mxagnanimity ; 
and each course would require a different kind of reception. 
Until this point should be resolved, therefore, he gave him in 
charge to Martin de Alarcon, alcayde of the ancient fortress of 
Porcuna, with orders to guard him strictly, but to treat him 
with the distinction and deference due unto a i^rince. These 
commands were strictly obeyed; and, with the exception of 
being restrained in his liberty, the monarch v\^as as nobly enter- 
tained as he could have been in his regal palace at Granada. 

In the mean time, Ferdinand availed himself of this critical 
'moment, while Granada was distracted with factions and dis- 
sensions, and before he had concluded any treaty with Boab- 
dil, to make a puissant and ostentatious inroad into the very 
heart of the kingdom, at the head of his most illustrious nobles. 
He sacked and destroyed several towns and castles, and ex- 
tended his ravages to the very gates of Granada. Old Muley 
Aben Hassan did not ventui'e to oppose him. His city w^as 
filled with troops, but he w^as uncei'tain of their affection, ^^o 
Ireaded, that should he sally forth, the gates of Granada 
might be closed against him by the faction of the Albaj'cin. 

The old Moor stood on the lofty tower of the Alhambra, 
isays Antonio Agapida,) grinding his teeth, and foaming like a 
tiger shut up in his cage, as he beheld the glittering battalions 
J)f the Christians wheeling about the vega, and the standard of 
jbe cross shining forth from among the smoke of infidel villages 
*ind hamlets. The most Catholic king (continues Agapida) 
Would gladly have continued this righteous ravage, but his 
nunitions began to fail. Satisfied, therefore, with having loid 
waste the country of the enemy, and insulted old Zvluiej' Aben 
Hassan in his very capital, he returned to Cordova covered 
vvith laurels, and his army laden with spoils; and now be- 
thought himself of coming to an immodiate decision, in regard 
'iO his royal prisoner. 



86 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

CHA.PTEII XX. 

OF THE TREATMENT OF BOABDIL BY THE CASTILIAN SOVEREIGNS. 

A STATELY convention was held by king Ferdinand in the 
ancient city of Cordova, composed of several of the most rev- 
erend prelates and renowned cavaliers of the kingdom, tc 
determine upon the fate of the unfortmiate Boabdil. 

Don Alonzo de Cardenas, the worthy Master of Santiago, wa^ 
one of the first who ga.ve his counsel. He was a pious and 
zealous knight, rigid in his devotion to the faith ; and his holy 
zeal had been inflamed to peculiar vehemence, since his disas 
trous crusade among the mountains of Malaga. He inveighed 
with ardor against any compromise or compact Avith the in 
fidels: the object of this war, he observed, was not the subjec- 
tion of the Moors, but their utter expulsion from the land ; sc 
that there might no longer remain a single stain of Mahome- 
tanism throughout Christian Spain. He gave it as his opinion, 
therefore, that the captive king ought not to be set at liberty. 

Eoderigo Ponce de Leon, the vahant marques of Cadiz, oe 
the contrary, spoke warmly for the release of Boabdil. He 
pronounced it a measure of sound policy, even if done withoul 
conditions. It would tend to keep up the civil war in Granada, 
which was as a fire consuming the entrails of the enemy, and 
effecting iTiore for the interests of Spain, without expense, thar 
all the conquests of its arms. 

The grand cardinal of Spain, Don Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, 
coincided in opinion with the marques of Cadiz. Nay, (added 
that pious prelate and politic statesman,) it would be sound 
wisdom to furnish the Moor with men and money, and al] 
other necessaries, to promote the civil war in Granada: by 
this means would be produced great benefit to the service oi 
God, since we are assured by his infallible word, that " a 
kingdom divided against itself cannot stand." * 

Ferdinand weighed these counsels in his mind, but was slo^^- 
in coming to a decision; he was religiously attentive to hie 
own interests, (observes Fray Antonio Agapida,) knowing him 
seK to be but an instrument of Providence in this holy war, 
and that, therefore, in consulting his own advantage he was 

* Salazar= Cronica del Gran Cardinal, p. 188. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 87 

promoting the interests of the faith. The opinion of quoon 
Isnbella reheved him from his perplexity. That high-minderl 
princess was zealous for the promotion of the faith, but not fo" 
the extermination of the inlidels. The Moorish kings had helO 
their thrones as vassals to her progenitors ; she was content at 
present to accord the same privilege, and that the royal pri- 
soner should be liberated on condition of becoming a va,ssal to 
the crown. By this means might be effected the dehverance 
of many Christian captives, ^vho were languishing in Moorish 
chains. 

King Ferdinand adopted the magnanimous measure recom- 
; mended by the queen; but he accompanied it with several 
shrewd conditions; exacting tribute, military services, and safe 
passage and maintenance for Christian troops, throughout the 
places which should adhere to Boabdil. The captive king 
readily submitted to these stipulations, and swore, after the 
manner of his faith, to observe them with exactitude. A truco 
was arranged for tw^o years, during which the Castilian sover- 
eigns engaged to maintain him on his throne, and to assist him 
in recovering all places which he had lost during his captivity. 
' When Boabdil el Chico had solemnly agreed to this arrange- 
ment, in the castle of Porcuna, preparations were made to re- 
ceive him in Cordova in regal style. Superb steeds richly 
I caparisoned, and raiment of brocade, and silk, and the most 
I costly cloths, w^th all other articles of sumptuous array, 
fjwere furnished to him and fifty Moorish cavehers, who had 
pome to treat for his ransom, that he might appear in state be- 
fitting the monarch of Granada, and the most distinguished 
; vassal of the Castilian sovereigns. Money also was advanced 
I po maintain him in suitacle grandeur, during his residence at 
) fihe Castilian court, and his return to his dominions. Finally. 
; 't was ordered by the sovereigns, that when he came to Cor- 
[ lova, all the nobles and dignitaries of the court should go forth 
*^ receive him. 

\ question now arose among certain of those ancient and 

A Morienced men, who gi'ow gi-ay about a court in the profound 

I'uly of forms and ceremonials, with whom a point of punctilio 

- as a vast political right, and who contract a sublime and 

whil idea of the external dignity of the throne. Certaiji of 

.^e court sages propounded the momentous question, whether 

Moorish monarch, coming to do homage as a vassal, ought 

I to kneel and kiss the hand of the king. This was imme- 

.alely decided in the affirmative, bv a large number of ancient 



II 



88 THE CONQUEST OF ORANADA. 

cavaliers accustomed (says Antonio Agapida) to the loft:i 
punctilio oi" our most dignified court and transcendent sove 
reigns. Tlie king, therefore, was informed by those who ar 
ranged the ceremonies, that when the Moorish monarch ap 
peared in his presence, he was expected to extend his roya 
hand to receive the kiss of homage. 

"I should certainly do so," rephed king Ferdinand, "wer( 
he at Hberty, and in his own kingdom ; but I certainly shal 
not do so, seeing that he is a prisoner and in niine." 

The courtiers loudly applauded the magnanimity of this re 
ply ; though many condemned it in secret, as savoring of to( 
much generosity towards an infidel; and the worthy Jesuit 
Fray Antonio Agapida, fully concurs in their opinion. 

The Moorish king entered Cordova with his httle train o 
faitlif ul knights, and escorted by all the nobility and chivalry 
of the Castihan court. He was conducted, with great state an( 
ceremony, to the royal palace. When he came in presence o 
Ferdinand, he knelt and offered to kiss his hand, not mereh 
in homage as his subject, but in gi-atitude for his liberty. Fer 
dinand declined the token of vassalage, and raised him gracioush 
from the earth. An interpreter began, in the name of Boabdil 
to laud the magnanimity of the Castihan monarch, and t( 
promise the most implicit submission. "Enough," said kin| 
Ferdinand, interrupting the interpreter in the midst of hi; 
harangue ; ' ' there is no need of these compliments. I trust ij 
his integrity, that he will do every thing becoming a good mai 
and a good Iving." With these words, hv^ received Boabdil e 
Chico into his royal friendship and protection. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

RETURN OF BOABDIL FROM CAPTIVITY. 

In the month of August, a noble Moor, of the race of th> 
Abencerrages, arrived with a splendid retinue at the city c 
Cordova, bringing with him the son of Boabdil el Chico, an( 
other of the noble youth of Granada, as hostages for the fulfi. 
ment of the terms of ransom. When the Moorish king behelr 
his son, his only child, who w^as to remain in his stead, a sor 
of captive in a hostile land, he folded him in his arms am 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 80 

wept ovor him. "Wo the day that I was born!" exclaimed 
he, "and evil the stars that presided at my birth! Well Avas I 
called El Zogoybi, or the unlucky; for sorrow is heaped upon 
mc by my father, and sorrow do I transmit to my son I" The 
'afilicted heart of Boabdil, however, was soothed by the kind- 
ness of the Christian sovereigns, v/ho received the hostage 
' prince with a tenderness suited to his age, and a distinction 
! worthy of his rank. They delivered him in charge to the 
worthy alcayde Martin de Alarcon, who had treated his father 
with such courtesy during his confinement in the castle of 
Porcuna, giving orders, that, after the departure of the latter, 
his son should be entertained with great honor and princely 
attention, in the same fortress. 

' On the 2d of September, a guard of honor assembled at the 
gate of the mansion of Boabdil, to escort him to the frontiers 
of his kingdom. He pressed his child to his heart at parting, 
Shut he uttered not a word ; for there were many Christian eyes 
to behold his emotion. He mounted his steed, and never 
turned his head to look again upon the youth ; but those who 
: were near him observed the vehement struggle that shook his 
'frame, wherein the anguish of the father had well nigh sub- 
dued the studied equanimity of the king. 

\ Boabdil el Chico and king Ferdinand sallied forth, side by 
'side, from Cordova, amidst the acclamations of a prodigious 
multitude. When they were a short distance from the city, 
they separate^, with many gracious expressions on the part of 
the Castilian monarch, and many thankful acknowledgments 
from his late captive, whose heart had been humbled by adver- 
sity. Ferdinand departed for Guadalupe, and Boabdil for 
Granada. The latter was accompanied by a guard of honor ; 
and the viceroys of Andalusia, and the generals on the frontier, 
were ordered to furnish him with escorts, and to show him all 
possible honor on his journey. In this way he was con- 
ducted in royal state through the country he had entered to 
ravage, and was placed in safety in his own dominions. 

He was met on the frontier by the principal nobles and cava- 
;hers of his court, who had been secretly sent by his mother, 
the sultana Ayxa, to escort him to the capital. The heart of 
Boabdil was lifted up for a moment, when he found himself on 
his own territories, surrounded by Moslem knights, with his 
own standards waving over his head ; and he began to doubt 
the predictions of the astrologers : he soon found cause, how- 
fiver, to moderate his exultation. The loyal train which had 



90 THE CONQUEST OF ORANABA. 

come to welcome him, was but scanty in number, and he 
missed many of his most zealous and obsequious courtiers. 
He had returned, indeed, to his kingdom, but it was no longer 
the devoted kingdom he had left. The story of his vassalage 
to the Christian sovereigns had been made use of by his fa- 
ther to ruin hmi with the people. He had been represented as 
a traitor to his country, a renegado to his faith, and as leagued 
with the enemies of both, to subdue the Moslems of Spai^l tc 
the yoke of Christian bondage. In this way, the mind of the, 
public had been turned from him; the greater part of the^ 
nobility had thronged round the throne of his father in the 
Alhambra; and his mother, the resolute sultana Ayxa, witli 
difficulty maintained her faction in the opposite towers of the 
Alcazaba. 

Such was the melancholy picture of affairs given to Boabdi 
by the courtiers who had come forth to meet him. Thej 
even informed him that it would be an enterprise of diffi 
culty and danger to make hio vzay back to the capital, and 
regain the little court which still remained faithful to him ir 
the heart of the city. The old tiger, Muley Aben Hassan, laj 
couched within the Alhambra, and the walls and gates o1 
the city were strongly guarded by his troops. Boabdil shool' 
his nead at these tidings. He called to mind the evil omen oi 
his breaking his lance against the gate of Elvira, when issuing 
forth so vain-gloriously with his army, which he now sa^s 
clearly had foreboded the destruction of that army on whicl 
he ha.d so confidently relied. "Henceforth," said he, "let n( 
man have the impiety to scoff at omens." 

Boabdil approached his capital by stealth, and in the night 
prowling about its walls, like an enemy seeking to destroy 
rather than a monarch returning to his tin-one. At length h( 
seized upon a postern-gate of the Albaycin, — that part of th* 
city which had always been in his favor ; he passed rapidh 
through the streets before the populace were aroused fron 
their sleep, and reached in safety the fortress of the Alcaza])a 
Here he was received into the embraces of his intrepi* 
mother, and his favorite wife Morayma. The transports o 
the latter, on the safe return of her husband, were mingle^ 
with tears ; for she thought of her father, Ali Atar, who ha* 
fallen in his cause, and of her only son, who was left a hostag 
in the hands of the Christians. 

The heart of Boabdil, softened by his misfortunes, was movei 
by the changes in every thing round him; but his mothe. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 91 

tilled up his spirit. Tliis," said she, "is no time for tears 
tmd tondncss, A kii'ij: inur^t think of his sceptre and his 
hrone, and not yield to softness like common men. Thou 
jiast done well, my s-on, in throwing: thyself resolutely into 
jranada: it must depend upon thyself, whether thou remain 
lere a kmg or a captive." 

The old king Muley Aben Hassjin had retired to his couch 
(hat night, in one of the strongest to were of the Alhambin ; 
>ut his restless anxiety kept him from repose. In the first 
sratch of the night, he heard a shout faintly rising from the 
uarter of the Albaycin, which is on the opposite side of the 
eep valley of the Darro. Shortly afterwards, horsemen came 
■alloping up the liill that leads to the main gate of the Alham- 
m, spix3ading the alaiin that Boabdil had entered the city and 
;ossessed himself of the Alcazaba. 

i In the firet trans]X)rts of his i*age, the old king would have 
[[truck the messenger to earth. He hastily summoned his 
ounseUore and commandei-s, exhorting them to stand by him 
'•i this critical moment; and, during the night, made every 
: reparation to enter the Albaycin sword in hand in the morn- 

1 ' In the mean time, the sultana Ayxa had taken prompt and 

I (igorous measures to strengthen her jmrty. The Albaycin was 

I |ie part of the city filled by the lower ordere. The return of 

\ k)abdil was proclaimed throughout the streets, and large 

ims of money were distributed among the populace. The 

bbles, assembled in the Alcazaba, were promised honoi'S and 

awards by Boabdil, as soon as he should be firmly seated on 

le throne. These well-timed measures had the customary 

'?ect ; and, by daybreak, all the motley populace of the Albay- 

-n wei-e in arms. 

A doleful day succeeded. All Granada was a scene of tumult 
f |id horror. Drums and trumpets resounded in every part ; 
i 5l business was interrupted ; the shops were shut, the doors 
I jirricadoed. Armed bands paraded the streets, some shout- 
^ig for Boabdil, and some for Muley Aben Hassan. When 
hey encountered eacli other, they fought furiously and with- 
^iflt mercy; every public scpiare became a scene of battle, 
jitie great mass of the lower orders was in favor of Boabdil, 
i lit it was a multitude without discipline or lofty spirit; part 
U the people was regularly armed, but the greater number 
fkd sall'uxl forth with the implements of their trade. The 
*.toops of the old king, among whom were many ca's'aliei'S of 



92 THE CONQUEST OF GUANADA. 

pride and valor, soon drove the populace from the squarea 
They forti:^ed themselves, however, in the streets and lanes, 
which thQT barricadoed. They made fortresses of their houses, 
and fought desperately from the windows and the roofs, and 
many a warrior of the hig'iest blood of Granada was laid low. 
by plebeian hands and plebeian weapons, in this civic brawl. 

It was impossible that such violent convulsions should last! 
long, in the heart of a city. The people soon longed for repose, 
and a return to their peaceful occupations ; and the cavaherg; 
detested these conflicts with the multitude, in which there( 
were a J the horrors of war without its laurels. By the inter- 
ference of the alfaquis, an armistice was at length effected. 
Boabdil was persuaded that there was no dependence upon thes 
inconstant favor of the multitude, and was prevailed upon to 
quit a capital where he could only maintain a precarious seat 
upon his throne by a perpetual and bloody struggle. He fixed 
his court at the city oi Almeria, which was entirely devoted 
to him, and which, at that time, vied with Granada in splen- 
dor and importance. This compromise of grandeur for tran- 
quiQit^ , however, was sorely against the counsels of his proud- 
spmted mother, the sultana Ayxa. Granada appeared, in her- 
eyes, the only legitimate seat of dominion ; and she observed, 
with a smile of disdain, tho.t he was not w-orthy of being caUed 
* monarch, who was not master of his capital. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

FORAY OF THE MOORISH ALCAYDES, AND BATTLE OF LOPERA. I 

Though Muley Aben Hassan had regainea undivided sway 
over the city of Granada, and the alfaquis, by his command, 
''ha.l denounced his son Boabdil as an apostate, and as one 
doomed by Heaven to misfortune, stiU the latter had manj' 
adherents among the common people. Whenever, therefore, > 
any act of the old monarch was disfjleasing to the turbuleni 
multitude, they were prone to give him a hii^fc of the slipperj 
nature of his standing, hj shouting out the name of Boabdil e. 
Chico. Long experience had instructed Muley Aben Hassai j: 
in the character of the inconcustnt people over T.hom he ruled. 
"Allih Acb bar !" exclaimed he, "God is great; bat a succesS' 

i 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 93 

hil inroad into the country of the unbchevers will make nioro 
j converts to my cause than a thousand texts of the Koran, ex- 
pounded by ten thousand alfaquis." 

At this time king Ferdinand was absent from Andtdusia on 
a distant expedition, with many of his troops. The moment 
was favorable for a foray, and Muley Aben Hassan cast about 
his thoughts for a leader to conduct it. Ali Atar, the terrc>r of 
the border, the scourge of Andalusia, was dead ; but there was 
another veteran general, scarce inferior to him for predatory 
warfare. This was oM Bexir, the gray and crafty alcayde of 
(Malaga ; and the people under liis command were ripe for an 
3xi)odition of the kind. The signal defeat and slaughter of the 
Spanish knights in the neighboring mountains had filled the 
|^eople of Malaga with vanity and self-conceit. They had 
ittributed to their own valor the defeat which had been caused 
Dy the nature of the country. Many of them wore the armor 
md paraded in public v/ith the horses of the unfortunate cav- 
illers slain on that occasion, which they vauntingly displayed 
its the trophies of their boasted victory. Thaj had talked 
! ihemselves into a contempt for the chivalry of Andalusia, and 
^ere impatient for an opportunity to overrun a country de- 
ended by such troops. This, Muley Aben Hassan considered 
L favorable state of mind to insure a daring inroad, and he 
iient orders to old Bexir to gather together liis people and the 
I choicest warriors of the borders, and to carry fire and sword 
1 nto the very heart of Andalusia. The wary old Bexir imme- 
iliately dispatched his emissaries among the alcaydes of the 
)order towns, calling upon them to assemble with their troops 
it tlie city of Ronda, close upon the Christian frontier. 
; Ronda Avas the most viralent nest of Moorish depredators in 
[he whole border country. It was situated in the midst of the 
vild Serrania, or chain of mountains of the same name, which 
ti,re unconnnonly lofty, broken, and j^recipitous. It stood on 
,i\ ahnost isolated rock, nearly encircled by a deep valley, or 
lather chasm, through which ran the beautiful river called 
lio Verde. The Moors of this city were the most active, 
obust, and warlike of all the mountaineers, and their very 
hildren discharged the cross-bow with unerring aim. They 
vere incessantly harassing the rich plains of Andalusia ; their 
ity abounded with Christian spoils, and their deep dungeons 
jyere crowded with Chiistian captives, who might sigh in vain 
(or doiiverancc from this impregnable fortress. Such Avas 
|londa in the time of the Moors; and it has ever retained 



04 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

som-ything of the same character, even to the present day. Its 
inhabitants continue to be among the boldest, fiercest, and 
most adventurous of the Andahisian mountaineers; and the 
Serrania de Ronda is famous as the most dangerous resort of i 
the bandit and the contrabandista. 

Hamet Zeh, surnamed El Zegri, was the commander of tliis 
belligerent city and its fierce inhabitants. He was of the tribe * 
of the Zegries, and one of the most proud and daring of that 
warlike race. Beside the inhabitants of Ronda, he had a 
legion of African Moors in his immediate service. They were 
of the tribe of the Gomeres, mercenary troops, whose hot 
African blood had not yet been tempered by the softer living 
of Spain, and whose whole business was to fight. These he 
kept always well armed and well appointed. The rich pastur- 
age of the valley of Ronda produced a breed of horses famous 
for strength and speed; no cavalry, therefore, was better 
mounted than the band of Gomeres. Rapid on the march, 
fierce in the attack, it would SAveep down upon the Andalusian 
plains hke a sudden blast from the mountains, and pa,ss away 
as suddenly, before there was time for pursuit. 1 

There was nothing that stirred up the spirit of the Moors of 
the frontiers more thoroughly than the idea of a foray. The 
summons of Bexir was gladly obeyed by the alcaydes of the 
border towns, and in a httle while there was a force of fifteen 
hundred horse and four thousand foot, the very pith and 
marrow of the surrounding country, assembled within the 
walls of Ronda. The people of the place anticipated with 
eagerness the rich spoils of Andalusia that were soon to crowd 
theii' gates ; throughout the day, the city resounded with the • j 
noise of kettle-drum and trumpet; the high-mettled steeds ■ 
stamped and neighed in their stalls, as if they shared the im- | 
patience for the foray; while the Christian captives sighed, 
as the varied din of preparation reached to their rocky drnv 
geons, denoting that a fresh ravage was preparing against, 
their countrymen. 

The infidel host sallied forth full of spirits, anticipating an \ 
easy ravage and abundant booty. They encouraged each' 
other in a contempt for the prowess of the foe. Many of tho ; 
warriors of Malaga, and of some of the mountain towns, had (' 
insultingly arrayed themselves in the splendid armor of the 
Christian knights slain or talien prisoners in the famous mas- 
sacre, and some of tliem rode the Andalusian steeds which had 
been captured on that occasion. 



I 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. r.f) 

Tho wary Bexir had concerted his plans so secretly and 
expeditiously, that the Christian towns of Andalusia had not 
the least suspicion of the storm that had gathered Ijoyond tlie 
mountains. The vast and rocky range of the Serrania de 
Runda extended like a screen, covering all their movements 
from observation. 

The army made its way as ra])idly as the rugged nature of 
the niountains would permit, guided by Ilamet el Zegri, the 
bold alcayde of Ronda, who knew every pass and defile : not a 
idrum, nor the clash of a cymbal, nor the blast of a trumpet, 
iwas permitted to be heard. The mass of war rolled quietly on 
•as the gathering cloud to the brow of the mountains, intend- 
ing to burst down like the thunderbolt upon the plain. 
- Never let the most wary commander fancy himself secure 
pom discovery ; for rocks have eyes, and trees have ears, and 
tthe birds of the air have tongues, to betray the most secret 
bnterprise. There chanced at this time to be six Christian 
scouts, prowling about the savage heights of the Serrania de 
Roiida. They were of that kind of lawless ruffians who infest 
;he borders of belligerent countries, ready at any time to fight 
cor pay, or prowl for plunder. The v/ild mountain passes of 
Spain have ever abounded with loose rambling vagabonds of 
:he kind, — soldiers in war, robbers in peace; guides, guards, 
;miigglers, or cut-throats, according to the circumstances of 
ho case. 

Tiiese six marauders (says Fray Antonio Agapida) were on 
his occasion chosen instruments, sanctified by the righteous- 
. less of their cause. They were lurking among the mountains, 
o entrap Moorish cattle or Moorish prisoners, both of which 
vere equally saleable in the Christian market. They had 
[.scended one of the loftiest cliffs, and were looking out like 
liq-ds of prey, ready to pounce upon any thing that might 
iffer in the valley, when they descried the Moorish army 
bncrging from a mountain glen. They Avatched it in silence 
s it wound below them, remarking the standards of the 
arious towns and the pennons of the commanders. They 
iovered about it on its march, skulking from cliff to cliff, 
mtil they saw the route by Avhich it intended to enter the 
''hristian country. They then dispersed, each making his 
7ay by the secret passes of the mountains to some different 
Icayde, that they might spread the alarm far and wide, and 
ach get a separate reward. 
I One hastened to Luis Fernandez Puerto Carrero, the same 



96 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

valiant alcayde wlio had repulsed Muley Aben Hassan from 
the walls of Alhama, and who now commanded at Ecija, ir 
the absence of the Master of Santiago. Others roused tlu 
town of Utrera, and the places of that neighborhood, putting 
them all on the alert. 

Puerto Carrero was a cavalier of consummate vigor and 
activity. He immediately sent couriers to the alcaydes of the 
neighboring- fortresses; to Herman Carrello, captain of a bodv 
of the Holy Brotherhood, and of certain knights of the ordei 
of Alcantara. Puertoi Carrero was the first to take the field. 
Knowing the hard and hungry service of these bordei 
scampers, he made every man take a hearty repast, and see 
that his horse was well shod and perfectly appointed. Then 
all being refreshed and in valiant heart, he sallied forth to seel? 
the Moors. He had but a handful of men, the retainers of hi? 
household and troops of his captaincy; but they were well 
armed and mounted, and accustomed to. the sudden rouses ol 
the border; men whom the cry of "Arm and out! to horse 
and to the field !" was sufficient at any tune to put in a fever 
of animation. 

While the northern part of Andalusia was thus on the alert, 
one of the scouts had hastened southward to the city of Xeres, 
and given the alarm to the valiant marques of Cadiz. When 
the marques heard that the Moor was over the border, and 
tiaat the standard of ]\Ialaga was in the advance, his heart 
bounded with a momentary joy ; for he remembered the mas- 
sacre in the mountains, where his valiant brothers had been 
mangled before his eyes. The very authors of his calamity 
were now at hand, and he flattered himself that the day ol 
vengeance had arrived. He made a hasty levy of his retainers 
and of the fighting men of Xeres, and hurried off with throe 
hundred horse and two hundred foot, all resolute men and 
panting for revenge. 

In the mean time, the veteran Bexir had accomplished his 
march, as he imagined, undiscovered. From the openings oi 
the craggy defiles, he pointed out the fertile plains of Andalu- 
sia, and regaled the eyes of bis soldiery with the rich country 
they were about to ravage. The fierce Gomeres of Rond? 
were flushed with joy at the sight; and even their steedf 
seemed to prick up their ears and snuff the breeze, as they 
beheld the scenes of their frequent forays. 

When they came to where the mountain defile opened into 
the low land, Bexir divided his force into three parts: one,, 



THE CONQUEST OF (J RAN AD A. 1)7 

composed of foot-soldiers and of such as were weakly mounted, 
he left to guard the pass, being too experienced a veteran not 
to know the importance of securing a retreat : a second body 
he placed in ambush, among the groves and thickets on the 
banks of the river Lopera: the third, consisting of light 
cavaliy. he sent forth to ravage the Campina, or great plain 
of Utrera. Most of this latter force was composed of the fiery 
Gomeres of Honda, mounted on the fleet steeds bred among 
the mountains. It was led by the bold alcayde Hamet el 
Zegri, who was ever eager to be foremost in the forage. Little 
suspecting that the country on both sides was on the alarm, 
and rushing from all dirf^ctions to close upon them in rear, 
this fiery troop dashed forward until they came within two 
I leagues of Utrera. Here they scattered themselves about the 
plain, careering round the great herds of cattle and flocks of 
I sheep, and sweeping them into droves, to be hurried to the 
mountains. 

While they were thus dispersed in every direction, a troop 

of horse and body of foot from Utrera came suddenly upon 

them. The Moors rallied together in small parties, and 

endeavored to defend themselves; but they were without a 

I leader, for Hamet el Zegri was at a distance, having, like a 

I hawk, made a wide circuit in pursuit of prey. The marauders 

^ soon gave way and fled towards the ambush on the banks of 

i the Lopero , being hotly pursued by the men of Utrera, 

j "When they reached the Lopera, the Moors in ambush rushed 

I forth with furious ciies ; and the fugitives, recovering courage 

from this reinforcement, rallied and turned upon their jmr- 

\ suers. The Christians stood their ground, though greatly in- 

pferior in number. Their lances were soon broken, and they 

j came to shai^^ work with sword and scimitar. The Christians 

I fought valiantly, but were in danger of being overwhelmed. 

; The bold Hamet had collected a handful of his scattered Go- 

) meres, and, leaving his prey, had galloped towards the scene 

; of action His little troop of horsemen had reached the crest 

! of a rising ground at no great distance, when trumpets were 

heard in another direction, and Luis Fernandez Puerto Cai-rero 

and his followers came galloping into the field, and charged 

upon the infidels in flank. 

The Moors were astounded at finding war thus breaking upon 

[ them, from various quarters of what they had expected to find 

jan unguarded country. They fought for a short time with 

desperation, and resisted a vehement assault from the knights 



98 THE COJS'QUmT OF ■ NAD A. 

of Alcantara, and the men-at-arms oi T\ » Holy Brotherhood. 
At length the veteran Bexir was strii ik from his horse by 
Puerto Carrero. and taken prisoner, an I the whole force gave 
way and fled. In their flight, they se!)arated, and took two 
roads to the mountains, thinking, by d" viding their forces, to 
distract the enemy. The Christians we re too few to separate. 
Puerto Carrero kept them together, purs' ling one division of the 
enemy with great slaughter. This battle took place at the foun- 
tain of the fig-tree, near to the Lopera. Six hundred Moorish 
cavaliers were slain, and many taken pri& oners. Much spoil was ^ 
collected on the field, with which the Christians returned in 
triumph to their homes. 

The larger body of the enemy had retreated along a road 
loading more to the south, by the banks of the Guadalete. 
When they reached that river, the sound of pursuit had died 
away, and they rallied to breathe and refresh themselves on 
the margin of the stream. Their force was reduced to about 
a thousand horse, and a confused multitude of foot. While 
they were scattered and partly dismounted on the banks of the 
Guadalete, a fresh storm of Avar burst upon them from an op- 
posite direction. It was the maroues of Cadiz, leading on his 
household troops and the fighting men of Xeres. When the 
Christian warriors came in sight of the Moors, they were 
roused to fury at beholdmg manv of them arrayed in the 
armor of the cavaliers who had been slain among the moun- 
tains of Malaga. Nay, some who had been in that defeat 
beheld their own armor, which they had cast away in their 
flight, to enable themselves to climb the mountams. Exasper- 
ated at the sight, they rushed upon the foe with the ferocity of 
tigers, rather than the temperate courage of cavahers. Each 
man felt as if he were avenging the death of a relative, ov 
Aviping out his own disgrace. The good marques, himself, be- 
held a powerful Moor bestriding the horse of his brother Bel- 
tram : giving a cry of rage and anguish at the sight, he rushed 
through the thickest of the enemy, attacked the Moor with re- 
sistless fury, and after a short combat, hurled him breathless 
to the earth. 

The Moors, already vanquished in spirit, could not withstand 
the assault of men thus madly excited. They soon gave way^ 
and fled for the defile of the Serrania de Ronda, where the 
body of troops had been stationed to secure a retreat. These, 
seeing them come galloping wildly up the defile, with Christian 
banners in pursuit, and the flash of weapons at their deadly 



TUK CONQUEST OF GUANADA. 99 

work thought aU Andalusia was upon them, and fled without 
avvniting an attack The pursuit continued among dens .-^"d 
dehles; for the ( ■hnstian warriors, eager for revenge, luad no 
compassion on tlie loe. ' 

When the pursuit was over, the marques of Cadiz and Iiis 
foilovvers reposed themselves upon the banks of the Guadalote 
|where tlxey divided the spoil. Among this were found n^n v 
^ oh corselets hehnets, and weapons,-the Moorish trophies of 
he defeat m the mountains of Malaga. Several were Eed 
by their owners; others were known to have belonged to noble 
cavaliers, who had been slain or taken prisonei^. There were 
seveivil horses also, richly caparisoned, which had pranced 
proudly with the unfortunate warriors, 'as they salhed out of 
Antiquera upon that fatal expedition. Thus the exultation of 
the victors was dashed with melancholy, and many a k^^ght 
«ras seen lamenting over the hehnet or corselet of some loved 
companion in arms. 

! The good niarques of Cadiz was resting under a tree on the 
mnks of the Guadalete, when the horse which had belonged to 
lis slaughtered brother Beltram was brought to him. He la d 
^ hand upon the mane, and looked wistfully at the empty 
addle. His bosom heaved with violent agitation, and his lip 
imvered and was pale. " Ay de mi ! mi hermano !" (wo is me ! 
ny brother !) was all that he said ; for the grief of a warrior has 
wt many words. He looked round on the field strewn with the 
K)dies of the enemy, and in the bitterness of his wo he felt con- 
loled by the idea that his brother had not been unrevenged. 

«^^!r",'^!' " ''''■"'"^'' ''" '" ^''^''"••' ^i' ''■*'•'"' ""'"^has ricascomzas e capacete, ) 

ZrLZ r '^ "" "" ^""'°^ 'I"" '•■'' ""^i"" "<*<Io r"r fuir e ot™ 

l.ero„ couocdas, que era., n,„l .efial das de homl.res prine pules que havtan que 



CHAPTER XXni. 

RETREAT OF HEMET EL ZEGRI, ALOAYDE OF EONDA. 

The bold alcayde of Ronda, Hamet el Zegi-i, had careered 
bde over the Campifia of Utrera, encompassifg'the flols and 
^erds, when ho heard the burst of war at a distance. There 



100 THE CONQUEST OlT OR AN AD A, 

were with him hut a handful of his Gomeres. He saw the 
scamper and pursuit afar off, and fcelield the Christian horse- 
men spurring madiy on towards ti2e amhuscade on the banks 
of the Loi)Gra. Ilamet tossed his hand triumphantly aloft, 
for his men to follow him. "Thi- Christian dogs are ours!" 
said he, as he put spurs to liis hoi*Sij to take the enemy in rear. 

The little band, wiiich followed HF,met, scarcely amounted to 
thirty horsemen. They spurred across the plain, and reached I; 
a rising ground, just as the force of Puerto Carrero had 
charged, with sound of trumpet, upon the flank of the party in 
. ambush. Haniet beiioid the headlong rout of the army, with 
rage and consternation. He found the country was i)ouring 
forth its legions from every quarter, and i^erceived that there 
was no safety but in precipitate flight. 

But which way to fly? An army was between him and the 
mountain pass ; all the forces of the neighborhood were rush- 
ing to the borders ; the whole route by which he had come, 
was by this time occupied by the foe. He checked his steed, 
rose in the stirrups, and rolled a stern and thoughtful eye over 
the country ; then sinking into his saddle, he seemed to com- 
mune a moment with himself. Turning quickly to his troop, 
he singled out a renegado christian, a traitor to his religion 
and his king. "Come hither," said Hamet. " Thou knowest 
all the secret passes of the country." "I do," replied the! 
renegado. "Dost thou know any circuitous route, solitary 
and untravelled, by which we can pass wide within these '■ 
troops, and reach the Serrania?" The renegado paused: "Such j 
a route I know, but it is full of peril, for it leads through 
the heart of the Christian land." " 'Tis well," said Hamet; I 
"the more dangerous in appearance, the less it will be sus- , 
pected. Now hearken to me. Eide by my side. Thou seest | 
this purse of gold, and this scbniiDar. Take us, by the route j 
thou hast mentioned, safe to the pass of the Serrania, and this ' 
purse shall be thy reward ; betray us, and this scimitar shall 
cleave thee to the saddle-bow."* 

The renegado obeyed, trembhng. They turned off from the 
direct road to the mountains, and struck southward towards 
Lebrixa, passing by the most solitary roads, and along those 
deep ramblas a.nd ravines by which the country is intersected. 
It was indeed a daring course. Every now and then they 
heard the distant sound of trumpets, and the alarm-bells of 

* Cura de los Palacios. Ubi sup. 



THE CONQUEST OF (J RAN AD A, 101 

towns and villages, and found that the war was still hurry- 
ing to tliG borders. They hid themselves in thickets, and in 
the dry beds of rivers, initil the danger had passed by, and 
then resumed their course. Hamet el Zegri rode on in silence, 
his hand upon his scimitar and his eye upon the renegado 
guide, prepared to sacrifice him on the least sign of treachery; 
while his band followed, gnawing their lips with rage, at 
liaving thus to skulk through a country they had come to 
ravage. 

When night fell, they struck into more practicable roads, 
always keeping wide of the villages and hajnlets, lest the 
watch-dogs should betray them. In this way, they passed in 
deep midnight by Areos, crossed the Guadalete, and effected 
their retreat to the mountains. The day dawned, as they 
made their way up the savage defiles. Their comrades had 
been hunted up these very glens by the enemy. Every now 
and then, they came to where there had been a partial fight, 
or a slaughter of the fugitives ; and the rocks were red with 
blood, and strewed with mangled bodies. The alcayde of 
Eonda was almost frantic with rage, at seeing many of his 
bravest warriors lying stiff and stark, a prey to the hawks 
and vultures of the mountains. Now and then som.e wretched 
Moor Avould crawl out of a cave or glen, whither he had fled 
for refuge ; for in the retreat, many of the horsemen had aban- 
doned their steeds, throAvn away their armor, and clambered 
up the chffs, where they could not be pursued by the Christian 
cavalry. . 

The Moorish army had sallied forth from Eonda, amidst 
shouts and acclamations; but Availings were heard within its 
walls, as the alcayde and his broken band returned without 
banner or trumpet, and haggard with famine and fatigue. 
The tidings of their disaster had preceded them, borne by the 
fugitives of the army. No one ventured to speak to the stern 
Haniet el Zegri, as he entered the city ; for they saw a dark 
cloud gathered upon his brow. 

It seemed (says the pious Antonio Agapida) as if Heaven 
meted out this defeat in exact retribution for the ills inflicted 
upon the Christian warriors in the heights of Malaga. It was 
equally signal and disastrous. Of the brilliant array of Moor- 
ish chivalry, which had descended so confidently into Anda- 
lusia, not more than two hundred escaped. The choicest 
troops of the frontier were either taken or destroyed; the 
Moorish garrisons enfeebled ; and many alcaydes and cavahers 



102 2'^^^ CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

of noblo Aiti'^ctge carried into captivity, who were afterwards 
obliged to redeem themselves with heavy ransom.s. 

This was called the battle of Lopera, and was fought on the 
17th of September, 1483. Ferdinand and Isabella were at 
Vittoria in old Castile, when they received news of the victory, 
and the standards taken from the enemy. They celebrated 
the event with processions, illmninations, and other festivities, 
'erdinand sent to the marques of Cadiz the royal raiment 
which he had worn on that day, and conferred on him, and on 
all those who should inherit his title, the privilege of wearing 
royal robes on our Lady's day, in September, in commemora- 
tion of tliis victory.* 

Queen Isabeha was equally mindful of the great services of 
Don Luis Fernandez Puerto Carrero. Besides many encomi- 
ums and favors, she sent to his wife the royal vestments and 
robe of brocade which she had worn on the same day, to be 
worn by her, during her life, on the anniversary of that bat- 
tle.* 



CHAPTEE XXIV. 



OF THE RECEPTION AT COURT OF THE COUNT DE CABRA AND 
THE ALCAYDE DE LOS DONZELES. 

In the midst of the bustle of warlike affairs, the worthy 
chronicler -Fray Antonio Agapida pauses to note, with curious 
accuracy, the distinguished reception given to the count de 
Cabra and his nephew, the alcayde de los Donzeles, at the 
stfitely and ceremonious court of the CastiUan sovereigns, in 
reward for the capture of the Moorish king Boabdil. The 
court (he observes) was held at the time in the ancient Moor- 
ish palace of the city of Cordova, and the ceremonials were 
arranged by that venerable i3relate Don Pedro Gonzalez de 
Mendoza, bishop of Toledo and grand cardinal of Spain. 

It was on Wednesday, the 14th of October, (continues the 
precise Antonio Agapida,) that the good count de Cabra, ac- 
cording to a^rrangement, appeared at the gate of Cordova. 
Here he was met by the grand cardinal, and the duke of 
Villahermosa, illegitimate brother of the king, together with 

* Mariana, Abarca.. Zurita, Pulgar, &c 



I THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 103 

mfiny of the first grandees and prelates of the kingdom. By 
tliis august train Avas ho attended to the palace, amidst tri- 
umphant strains of martial music, and tke shouts of a pro- 
digious multitude. 

When the count arrived in the presence of the sovereigns, 
wh(^ were seated in state on a dais or raised part of the hall of 
audience, they hoth arose. The king advanced exactly five 
st(^ps towards the count, who knelt and Idssed his majesty's 
hand; but the king would not receive him as a mere vassal, 
but embraced him with affectionate cordiahty. The queen 
also advanced two steps, and received the count with a coun- 
tenance full of sweetness and benignity: after he had kissed 
her hand, the king and queen returned to their thrones, and, 
cushions being brought, they ordered the count de Cabra to be 
seated in their presence. This last circumstance is written in 
large letters, and followed by several notes of admiration, in 
the manuscript of the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida, who con- 
siders the extraordinary primal ege of sitting in presence of the 
Cathohc sovereigns an honor well worth fighting for. 

The good count took his seat at a short distance from the 
king, and near him was seated the duke of Najera, then the 
bishop of Palencia, then the count of Aguilar, the count Luna, 
a,nd Don Gutierre de Cardenas, senior commander of Leon. 

On the side of the queen were seated the grand cardinal of 
Spain, the duke of Villahermosa, the count of Monte Rey, and 
the bishops of Jaen and Cuenca, each in the order in which 
bhey are named. The Infanta Isabella was prevented, by in- 
iisposition, from attending the ceremony. 

And now festive music resounded through the hall, and 
twenty ladies of the queen's retinue entered magnificently 
ittired ; upon which twenty youthful cavaliers, very gay and 
plliard in their array, stepped forth, and, each seeking his 
"air partner, they com_menced a stately dance. The court in 
ihe mean tune (observes Fray Antonio Agapida) looked on 
vith lofty and becoming gravity. 

When the dance was concluded, the king and queen rose to 
•etire to supper, and dismissed the count with many gracious 
jxpressions. Pie was then attended by all the grandees present 
;o the palace of the grand cardinal, where they partook of a 
lumptuous banquet. 

On the following Saturday, the alcayde de los Donzeles was 
:eceived, likewise, with great honors; but the ceremonies wcj^g 
10 arranged, as to be a degree less in dignity than those shewn 



104 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

to his uncle; the latter being considered the principal actor in 
this great achievement. Thus the grand cardinal and the duke 
of Villaherniosa did not meet him at the gate of the city, but 
received liim in the palace, and entertained hun in conversa- 
tion until summoned to the sovereigns. 

V/hen the alcayde de los Donzeles entered the presence 
cliamber, the king and queen rose from their chairs, but with- 
out advancing. They greeted him graciously, and commanded ; 
him to be seated next to the count de Cabra. 

The Infanta Isabella came forth to this reception, and took 
her seat beside the queen. When the court were aU seated, 
the music agam sounded through the hall, and the twenty 
ladies came forth as on the preceding occasion, richly attired, 
but in different raiment. They danced, as before ; and the In- 
fanta Isabella, taking a young Portuguese damsel for a partner, 
joined in the dance. When this was concluded, the king and 
queen dismissed the alca.yde de los Donzeles with great cour- 
tesy and the court broke up. 

The worthy Fray Antonio Agapida here indulges in a long 
eulogy on the scrupulous discrimination of the Castihan court, 
in the distribution of its honors and rewards, by which means 
every smile, and gesture, and word of the sovereigns, had its 
certain value, and conveyed its equivalent of joy to the heart 
of the subject ; — a matter well worthy the study (says he) of 
all monarchs, who are too apt to distribute honors with a heed- 
less caprice that renders them of no avail. \ 

On the following Sunday, both the count de Cabra and the 
alcayde de los Donzeles were invited to sup with the sover- 
eigns. The court that evening was attended by the liighest 
nobility, arrayed with that cost and splendor for which the 
Spanish nobility of those days were renowned. 

Before supper, there was a stately and ceremonious dance, 
befitting the dignity of so august a court. The king led forth 
the queen, in grave and graceful measure ; the count de Cabra 
wo,s honored with the hand of the Infanta Isabella ; and the 
alcayde de los Donzeles danced with a daughter of the marques 
de Astorga. 

The dance being concluded, the royal party repaired to the 
supper-table, which was placed on an elevated part of the sa- 
loon. Here, in full view of the court, the count de Cabra and 
the alcayde de los Donzeles supped at the same table with the 
king, the queen, and the Infanta. The royal fairiily vv^cre 
served by the marques ot Vixiena, The cuDbearer to the king 



THE CONQUEiST OF GRANADA. lO^- 

^vas his nephew Fadrigue de Toledo, son to the duke of Alva 
I> .n Alexis de Estaniga had the honor of fulfilling that ofhce for 
tJ.e queen, and Tello de Aguilar for the Infanta. Other cava- 
liers of rank and distinction waited on the count and the al- 
cayde de los Donzeles. At one o'clock, the two distin^-uished 
KHsts were dismissed with many courteous expressions' by the 
.st»voreigns. 

Such (says Fray Antonio Agapida) were the great honors 
paid at our most exaltod and ceremonious court, to these re- 
nowned cavaliers: but the gratitude of the sovereigns did not 
end here. A few days afterwards, they ])estowed upon them 
large revenues for life, and others to descend to their heirs 
with the privilege for them and their descendants to prefix the 
title of Don to their names. They gave them, moreover '^^ 
armoriiil bearings, a Moor's head crowned, with a golden ch'iin 
round the neck, in a sanguine field, and twenty-two bannei-s 
round the margin of the escutcheon. Their descendants of 
the houses of Cabra and Cordova, continue to bear these arms 
at the present day, in memorial of the victory of Lucena and 
ithe capture of Boabdil el Cliico.* 



CHAPTER XXV. 



HOW THE MARQUES OF CADIZ CONCERTED TO SURPRISE ZAHARA, 
AND THE RESULT OF HIS ENTERPRISE. 

The valiant Roderigo Ponce de Leon, marques of Cadiz was 
t)ne ot the most vigilant of commanders. Ke kept in his pay a 
tiumber of converted Moors, to serve as adalides, or armed 
glides. These mongrel Christians were of gi-eat service in 
procuring information. Availing themselves of their ]\Ioorish 
character and tongue, they penetrated into tlie enemy's coun- 
try, prowled about the castbs and fortresses, noticed the state 
)f the walls, the gates and towers, the strength of their gar- 
nsori and the vigilance or negligence of their commanders. 
^.11 this they reported minutely to the marques, who thus 

. * '^^^^''''''^''l ^^^«" ^y ^''^y Antonio Agapida of this ceremonial, so characteris- 
ic of the o.d Spanish court, agrees in ahno^^t every partienlar with an ancient 
lanu^eiipt. made up from the chronicles of the cmate of los Palacios and other 
*M Spanish wi-iters. 



106 THE CONQUEST OF OBAN ADA. 

knew the state of every fortress upon the frontier, and when 
it mis;ht be attacked with advantage. Beside the various 
toY/ns and cities over which he held a feudal Gway, he had 
always an armed force about liim ready for the field. A host 
of retainers fed in his hall, who were ready to follow him to 
danger and death itself, without inquiring who or why they 
iought. The armories of his castles were supi^lied with helms 
and cuirasses and weapons of all kinds, ready burnished for 
use ; and his stables were filled with hardy steeds, that could 
stand a mountain scamper. 

The marques was aware that the late defeat of the Moors on 
the banks of the Lopera, had weakened their whole frontier ; 
for many of the castles and fortresses had lost their alcaydes, 
and their choicest troops. He sent out his war-hounds, there- 
fore, upon the range to ascertain where a successful blow 
might be struck ; and they soon returned, with word that Za- 
hara was weakly garrisoned and short of provisions. 

This was the very fortress, which, about two years before, 
had been stormed by Muley Aben Hassan ; and its capture had 
been the first bloAV of this eventful war. It had ever since re- 
mained a thorn in the side of Andalusia. All the Christians 
had been carried away captive, and no civil i)opula.tion had 
been introduced in their stead. There were no women or chil- 
dren in the place. It was kept up as a mere military ]3ost, 
commanding one of the most important passes of the moun- 
tains, and was a strong-hold of Moorish marauders. The mar- 
ques was animated by the idea of regaining this fortress for his 
sovereigns, and wresting from the old Moorish king this 
boasted trophy of his prowess. He sent missives therefore to 
the brave Luis Fernandez Puerto Carrero, who had distin- 
guished himself in the late victory, and to Juan Almaraz, cap- 
tain of the men-at-arms of the Holy Brotherhood, informing 
them of his designs, and mviting them to meet him with their 
forces on the banks of the Guadalete. 

It was on the day (says Fray Antonio Agapida) of the glori- 
ous apostles St. Simon and Judas, the twenty-eighth of Octo- 
ber, in the year of grace one thousand four hundred and 
eighty-three, that this chosen band of Christian soldiers assem- 
bled suddenly and secretly at the appointed place. Their 
forces, when united, amounted to six hundred horse and fif- 
teen hundred foot. Their gathering place was at the entrance 
of the defile leading to Zahara. That ancient town, reno\v^nedl 
in Moorish warfare, is situated in one of the roughest passes ox 



THE CO^'QUlLtiT OF GRANADA. 107 

the Serrania de Ronda. It is built round the craggy cone of a 
hill, on the lofty summit of which is a strong castle. The 
country around is broken into deep barrancas or ravines, some 
of which approach its very walls. The place had until recently 
been considered impregnable; but (as the worthy Fray Anto- 
nio Agapida observes) the walls of nnpregnable fortresses, hko 
the virtue of self-confident saints, have their weak points oj 
attack. 

The marques of Cadiz advanced with his little army in the' 
dead of the night, marching silently into the deep and dark de- 
files of the mountains, and stealing up the ravines which ex- 
tended to the walls of the town. Their approach was so noise- 
less, that the Moorish sentinels upon the walls heard not a 
voice or a footfall. The marques was accompanied by his old 
escalador, Ortega de Prado. who had distinguished himself at 
the scahng of Alhama. This hardy veteran was stationed, with 
ten men, furnished with scaling-ladders, m a ca\'ity among 
the rocks, close to the walls. At a little distance, seventy men 
were hid in a ravine, to be at hand to second him, v/hen he 
should have fixed his laddei-s. The rest of the troops were 
concealed in another ravine, conunanding a fair approach to 
the gate of the fortress. A shrewd and wary adalid, well ac- 
luainted with the place, was appointed to give signals; and 
ivas so stationed, that he could be seen by the various parties 
n ambush, but was hidden from the garrison. 

The remainder of the night passed away in profound quiet. 
lie Moorish sentinels could be heard tranquilly patrolling the 
rails, in perfect security. The day dawned, and the rising 
un began to shine against the lofty peaks of the Serrania de 
tonda. The sentinels looked from their battlements over a 
avage but quiet mountain country, where not a human being 
ras stirring; they Httle dreamt of the mischief that lay lurk- 
ig in every ravine and chasm of the rocks around them, 
.pprehending no danger of surprise in broad day, the greater 
art of the soldiers abandoned the walls and towei-s, and de- 
jended into the city. 

By orders of the marques, a small body of light cavah-y 
assed along the glen, and, turning round a point of rock, 
lowed themselves before the town: they skirred the fields 
most to the gates, as if by way of bravado, and to defy the 
irrison to a skirmish. The Moors were not slow in replying 

it. About seventy horse, and a number of foot who had 
larded the walls, saUied forth impetuously, thinking to make 



108 THE COJSTQUEST OF GRANADA. 

easy proy of these insolent marauders^ The Christian horsemen 
fled for the ravine; the Moors pursued them down the hill, 
until they heard a great shouting and tumult behind them. 
Looking roimd, they beheld their town assailed, and a scaling 
party mounting the walls sword in hand. Wheeling about, 
they galloped furiously for the gate; the marques of Cadiz 
and Luis Fernandez Puerto Carrero rushed forth at the same 
time with their ambuscade, and endeavored to cut them off; 
but the Moors succeeded in throwing themselves within the , 
walls. I 

While Puerto Carrero stormed at the gate, the marques put I 
spurs to his horse and galloped to the support of Ortega de '■ 
Prado and his scahng party. He arrived at a moment of 
imminent peril, when the party was assailed by fifty Moors, 
armed with cuirasses and lances, who were on the point of j 
thrusting them from the walls. The marques sprang from his || 
horse, mounted a ladder, sword in hand, followed by a number ; 
of his troops, and made a vigorous attack upon the enemy.* j 
They were soon driven from the walls, and the gates and 
towers remained in possession of the Christians. The Moors 
defended themselves for a short time in the streets, but at 
length took refuge in the castle, the walls of which were strong, 
and capable of holding out until relief should arrive. The 
marques had no desire to carry on a siege, and he had not pro- 
visions sufficient for many prisoners ; he granted them, there- 
fore, favorable terms. They were permitted, on leaving their 
arms behind them, to march out with as much of their effects 
as they could carry ; and it was stipulated that they should 
pass over to Barbary. The marques remained in the place 
until both town and castle were put in a perfect state of de- 
fence, and strongly garrisoned. 

Thus did Zahara return once more into possession of the 
Christians, to the great confusion of old Muley Aben Hassan, 
who, having paid the penalty of his ill-timed violence, was now 
deprived of its vaunted fruits. The Castilian sovereigns were 
so gratified by this achievement of the valiant Ponce de Leon, \i 
that they authorized him thenceforth to entitle himself duke ot ,^ 
Cadiz and marques of Zahara. The warrior, however, was so ^ 
proud of the original title, under which he had so often sig- 
nalized himself, that he gave it the precedence, and always 
signed himself, marques, duke of Cadiz. As the reader may 

* Cura de los Palacios, c. 6? 



Tine CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 109 

have acquired the same predilection, we shall continue to call 
him by his ancient title. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



OP THE PORTRESS OP ALHAI\IA, AND HOW WISELY IT WAS GOV- 
■ ERNED BY THE COUNT DE TENDILLA. 

In this part of the chronicle, the worthy father I'ray Antonio 
Agapida indulges in triumphant exultation over the downfall 
of Zahara: Heaven sometimes speaks (says he) through the 
mouths of false prophets for the confusion of the wicked. By 
the fall of this fortress was the prediction of the santon of 
Granada in some measure fulfilled, that ' ' the ruins of Zahara 
should fall upon the heads ot the infidels. " 

Our zealous chronicler scoffs at the Moorish alcayde, who 
lost his fortress by surprise in broad daylight ; and contrasts 
I the vigilance of the Christian governor of Alhama, the town 
I taken in retaliation for the storming of Zahara. 
I The important post of Alhama was at this time confided by 
\ king Ferdinand to Don Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, count of Ten- 
i dilla, a cavalier of noble blood, brother to the grand cardinal 
of Spain. He had been instructed by the king, not merely to 
maintain his post, but also to make sallies and lay waste the 
siuTOunding country. His fortress was critically situated. It 
was mthin seven leagues of Granada, and at no gi*eat distance 
frcmi the warlike city of Loxa. It was nestled in the lap of 
the mountains, commanding the high-road to Malaga and a 
view over the extensive vega. Thus situated, in the heart of 
the enemy's country, surrounded by foes ready to assail him, 
and a rich country for him to ravage, it behoved this cavaher 
to be for ever on the alert. He was in fact an experienced 
veteran, a shrewd and wary officer, and a commander amaz- 
ingly prompt and fertile in expedients. 

On assuming the command, he found that the garrison con- 
sisted but of one thousand men, horse and foot. They were 
iiardy troops, seasoned in rough mountain campaigning, but 
•eckless and dissolute, as soldiers are apt to be when ac- 
'iistomcd to predatory warfare. They would fight hard for 
300 ty, and then gamble it heedlessly away, or nquander it in 



110 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. j 

licentious revelling. Alhama abounded with hawking, sharp- I 
ing, idle hangers-on, eager to profit by the vices and follies of I 
the garrison. The soldiers were oftener gambling and dancing | 
beneath the walls, than keeping watch upon the battlements ; i 
and nothing was heard, from morning till night, but the | 
noisy contest of cards and dice, mingled with the sound of the ■ 
bolero or fandango, the drowsy strumming of the guitar, and 
the rattlmg of the castanets ; while often the whole was inter- 
rupted by the loud brawl, and fierce and bloody contest. 

The count of Tendilla set himself vigorously to reform these 1 
excesses ; he knew that laxity of morals is generally attended 
by neglect of duty, and that the least breach of disciphne in 
the exposed situation of his fortress might be fatal. ' ' Here is 
but a handful of men," said he; " it is necessary that each man \ 
should be a hero. " \ 

He endeavored to awaken a proper ambition in the minds j 
of his soldiers, and to instil into them the high principles of ■ 
chivalry. "A just war," he observed, "is often rendered;! 
wicked and disastrous by the manner in which it is con- 
ducted; for the righteousness of the cause is not sufficient 
to sanction the profligacy of the means, and the want of 
order and subordination among the troops may bring ruin 
and disgrace upon the best concerted plans." But we cannot 
describe the character and conduct of this renowned com- 
mander in more forcible language than that of Fray Antonio j 
Agapida, excepting that the pious father places in the fore- i 
ground of his virtues his hatred of the Moors. "The count de } 
Tendilla," says he, "was a mirror of Christian knighthood- 
watchful, abstemious, chaste, devout, and thoroughly filled 
with the spirit of the cause. He labored incessantly and 
strenuously for the glory of the faith, and the prosperity of 
their most Catholic majesties; and, above all, he hated the 
infidels with a pure and holy hatred. The worthy cavaher 
discountenanced all idleness, rioting, chambering, and wanton- 
ness among his soldiery. He kept them constantly to the 
exercise of arms, making them adroit in the use of their 
weapons and management of their steeds, and prompt for. 
the field at a moment's notice. He permitted no sound of 
lute or harp, or song, or other loose minstrelsy, to be heard 
in his fortress, debauching the ear and softening the valor 
of the soldier ; no other music was allowed but the wholesome 
roUing of the drum and braying of the trumpet, and such like 
spirit-stirring instruments as fill the mind with thoughts of 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. HI 

iron war. All wandering minstrels, sharping pedlars, sturdy 
trulls, and other camp trumpery, were ordered to pack up 
tlieir baggage, and were drummed out of the gates of Alhama. 
In place of such lewd rabble, he introduced a train of holy 
friars to inspii-it his people by exhortation, and prayer, and 
choral chanting, and to spur them on to fight the good fight of 
faith. All games of chance were prohibited, except the game 
of war ; and this he labored, by vigilance and vigor, to reduce 
to a game of cei'tainty. Heaven smiled upon the efforts of 
this righteous cavalier. His men became soldiers at all points, 
and terrors to the Moors. The good count never set forth on a 
ravage, without observing the rites of confession, absolution, 
and communion, and obliging his followers to do the same. 
Then* banners w^ere blessed by the holy friars whom he main- 
tained in Alhama ; and in this way success was secured to his 
arms, and he was enabled to lay waste the land gf the heathen. 

The fortress of Alhama (continues Fray Antonio Agapida) 
overlooked fi'om its lofty site a great part of the fertile vega, 
watered by the Cazin and the Xenel : from this he made fre- 
quent saUies, sweeping away the flocks and herds from the 
pasture, the laborer from the field, and the convoy from the 
road ; so that it was said by the Moors, that a beetle could not 
crawl across the vega without being seen by count Tendilla. 
The peasantry, therefore, Avere fain to betake themselves to 
watch-towers and fortified hamlets, where they shut up their 
cattle, garnered their corn, and sheltered their wives and chil- 
dren. Even there they were not safe ; the count would storm 
these rustic fortresses with fire and sword ; make captives of 
their inhabitants; carry off the corn, the oil, the silks, and 
cattle; and leave the ruins blazing and smoking, within the 
very sight of Granada. 

"It was a pleasing and refreshing sight," continues the good 
father, " to behold this pious knight and his followers return- 
ing from one of these crusades, leaving the rich land of the 
infidel in smoking desolation behind them ; to behold the long 
line of mules and asses, laden with the plunder of the Gentiles 
— the hosts of captive Moors, men, women, and children — 
droves of sturdy beeves, lowing kine, and bleating sheep ; all 
winding up the steep acchvity to the gates of Alhama, pricked 
on by the Catholic soldiery. His garrison thus thrived on the 
?at of the land and the spoil of the infidel ; nor was he unmind- 
ful of the pious fathers, whose blessings crowned his enter- 
prises with success. A large portion of the spoil was always 



112 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

dedicated to the chureii :, and the good friars were ever ready 
at the gate to hail him on his return, and receive the share 
allotted them. Beside these allotments, he made many votive 
offerings, either in time of peril or on the eve of a foray ; and 
the chapels of Alhama were resplendent with chalices, crosses, 
and other precious gifts made by this Catholic cavalier." 

Thus eloquently does the venerable Fray Antonio Agapidr. 
dilate in praise of the good count de Tendilla ; and other his- 
torians of equal veracity, but less unction, agree in pronounc- 
ing him one ot the ablest of Spanish generals. So terrible in 
fact did he become in the land, that the Moorish peasantry 
could not venture a league from Granada or Loxa to labor in 
the fields, without peril ot being carried into captivity. The 
people of Granada clamored against Muley Aben Hassan, for 
suffering his lands to be thus outraged and insulted, and de- 
manded to ha^e this bold marauder shut up in his fortress. 
The old monarch was roused by their remonstrances. He 
sent forth powerful troops of horse, to protect the country, 
during the season that the husbandmen were abroad in the 
fields. These troops patrolled in formidable squadrons in the 
neighborhood of Alhama, keeping strict watch upon its gates ; 
so that it was impossible for the Christians to make a sally, 
without being seen and intercepted. 

While Alhama was thus blockaded by a roving force of 
Moorish cavalry, the inhabitants were awakened one night 
by a tremendous crash, that shook the fortress to its founda- 
tions. The garrison flew to arms, supposing it some assault 
of the enemy. The alarm proved to have been caused by the 
rupture of a portion of the wall, which, undermined by heavy 
rains, had suddenly given way, leaving a large chasm yawn- 
ing towards the plain. 

The count de Tendilla was for a time in great anxiety. 
Should this breach be discovered by the blockading horsemen, 
they would arouse the country, Granada and Loxa would pour 
out an overwhelming force, and they would find his walls 
ready sapped for an assault. In this fearful emergency, the 
count displayed his noted talent for expedients. He ordered 
a quantity of linen cloth to be stretched in front of the breach, 
painted in imitation of stone, and indented with battlements, 
so as at a distance to resemble the other parts of the wall : be- 
hind this scene he employed workmen, day and night, in re- 
pairing the fracture. No one was permitted to leave the for- 
tress, lest information of its defenceless plight should be carried 



TUE CONQUEST OF QRANADA. 113 

to the Moor, Light squadrons of the enemy were seen hovering 
about the plain, but never approached near enough to discover 
the deception ; and thus, in the course of a few days, the Av^ali 
was rebuilt stronger than before. 

There was another expedient of this shrewd veteran, which 
greatly excites the marvel of Agapida. "It happened," he 
observes, "that this Catholic cavalier at one time was desti- 
tute of gold and silver, wherewith to pay the wages of his 
troops ; and the soldiers mui*mured greatly, seeing that they 
had not the means of purchasing necessaries from the people 
of the town. In this dilemma, what does this most sagacious 
commander? He takes me a number of little morsels of paper, 
on the which he inscribes various sums, large and small, ac- 
cording to the nature of the case, and signs me them with his 
own hand and name. These did he give to the soldiery, in 
earnest of their pay. ' How ! ' you will say, ' are soldiei*s to be 
paid with scraps of paper? ' Even so, I answer, and well paid 
too, as I will presently make manifest: for the good count 
issued a proclamation, ordering the inhabitants of Alhama to 
take these morsels of paper for the full amount thereon in- 
scribed, promising to redeem them at a future time with silver 
and gold, and threatening severe punishment to aU who should 
I refuse. The people, having full confidence in his word, and 
1 trusting that ho would be as willing to perform the one pro- 
j mise as he certainly was able to perform the other, took those 
i curious morsels of paper without hesitation or demur. Thus, 
: by a subtle and most miraculous kind of alchymy, did this 
\ Catholic cavalier turn worthless paper into precious gold, and 
\ make his late impoverished garrison abound in money !" 
I It is but just to add, that the count de Tendilla redeemed his 
\ promises, Uke a loyal knight ; and this miracle, as it appeared 
in the eyes of Fray Antonio Agapida, is the first instance oni 
record of paper money, which has since inundated the civilized 
world with unbounded opulence. 



114 THE CONQUEST 01' GliAJSAl}^. 



CHAPTEE XXVII. 

FORA-i OF CHRISTIAlf KNIGHTS INTO THE TERRITORY OF THE 

MOORS. 

The Spanish cavaliers who had survivod the memorable T 
massacre among the mountains of Malaga, although they had j 
i-epeatedly avenged the death of their companions, yet could 
not forget the horror and humiliation of their defeat. Nothing ; 
would satisfy them but to undertake a second expedition of the i 
kind, to cari-y fire and sword throughout a wide part of the 
Moorish territories, and to leave all those regions which had 
triumphed in their disaster a black and burning monument of 
their vengeance. Their wishes accorded with the pohcy of the 
king, who desired to lay waste the country and destroy the 
resources of the enemy ; every assistance was therefore given 
to promote and accomplish their enterprise. 

in the spring of 1484, the ancient city of Antiquera again 
resounded with arms ; numbers of the same cavaliers who had 
assembled there so gayly the preceding year, again came . 
wheeling into the gates with their steeled and shining war- I 
riors, but with a more dark and solemn brow than on that I 
disastrous occasion, for they had the recollection of their : 
slaughtered friends present to their minds, v^hose deaths they ; 
were to avenge. 

In a little while there was a chosen force of six thousand 
horse and twelve thousand foot assembled in Antiquera, many 
of them the very flower of Spanish chivalry, troops of the 
estabhshed mihtary and rehgious orders, and of the Holy 
Brotherhood. 

Every precaution had been taken to furnish this army with 
all things needful for its extensive and perilous inroad. Nu- 
merous surgeons accompanied it, who were to attend upon all 
the sick and wounded, without charge, being paid for their 
services by the queen. Isabella, also, in her considerate hu- 
manity, provided six spacious tents furnished with beds and 
aU things needful for the wounded and infirm. These con- 
tinued to be used in all great expeditions throughout the war, 
and were called the Queen's Hospital, The wox^thy father. 
Fray Antonio Agapida, vaunts this benignant provision of the 
queen, as the first introduction of a regular camp hospital in 
campaigning service. 



riiK coxQuicsr of guaxada. jj,- 

Thus thoroughly prepared, tlin cavaliers issued forth from 
Antiquera in splendid and terrible array, but with lessexultiuK 
confidence and vaunting ostentation than on their former fori v 
and this was the order of the army. Don Alonzo de Aguilar 
led the advance guard, accompanied by Don Diego Fernandez 
do Cordova, the alcayde de los Donzoles, and Lui^ Fernandez 
Puerto Carrero, count of Palma, with their household toons 
They were followed by Juan de Merlo, Juan de Ahnara, ami 
Carlos deBiezman, of the Holy Brotherhood, with the men-at 
arms of then- captaincies. 

The sepond battahon was commanded by the marques oi" 
Cadiz and the Master of Santiago, with the cavaliS San- 
tiago and the troops of the house of Ponce de Leon • with these 
also went the senior commander of Calatrava and the knights 
of that order, and various other cavaliers and their retainers 

The right wmg of this second battalion was led by Cxonsalvo 
ide Cordova, afterwards renowned as grand captain of Spain- 
the loft wmg, by Diego Lopez de Avila. They were accom! 
pauK^d by several distinguished cavaliei-s, and certain captains 
Df the Holy Brotherhood, with their men-at-arms 

The duke of Medina Sidonia and the count de Cabra com- 
nanded the third battalion, with the troops of their respective 
louses. They were accompanied by other commanders of 
lote, with their forces. 

The reai--guard was brought up by the senior commander 
-nd kmghts ot Alcantara, followed by the Andalusiau chiv- 
Iry from Xerez, Ecija, and Carmona. 

Such was the aj-my that issued forth from the gates of An- 
.quera on one of the most extensive talas, or devastating in- 
3ads, that ever laid waste the kingdom of Granada 
The army entered the Moorish territory by the way of Alora 
.stroying all the cornfields, vineyards, and orchal ^d 
lantations of olives, round that city. It then proceeded 
.ro«gh he rich valleys and fertile uplands of Coin. Caza4 
>nela, Ahnexia, and Cartama; and in ten days, all ihose fei- 
e regions were a smoking and frightful desert. From heuco 
I pursued Its slow and destructive course, like the stream of 
va of a volcano, through the regions of Papiana and Alhen- 

";i,vi'°r, *^r''^'Y^ ^^■■''"^'^' I-yi^S^aste the groves 
ohves and almonds and the fields of grain, and destroying 
e. y grocn thmg. The Moors of some of these places inter- 

HtL°fr-"t "i' ^°^"'' "'"'^ ^'"'^^^^ offering to deliver 

I their Chnstmn captives. One part of the army blockaded 



116 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

the towns, while the other ravaged the surrounding country. 
Sometimes the Moors saUied forth desperately to defend theii 
property, but were driven back to their gates with slaughter, 
and their suburbs pillaged and burnt. It was an awful specta- 
cle at night to behold the volumes of black smoke mingled 
with lurid flames that rose from the burning suburbs, and the 
women on the walls of the town wringing their hands and 
shrieking at the desolation of their dwellings. 

The destroying army, on arriving at the sea-coast, found 
vessels lying off shore laden with all kinds of provisions and 
munitions for its use, which had been sent from Seville and 
Xerez : it was thus enabled to continue its desolating career. 
Advancing to the neighborhood of Malaga, it was bravely as- 
sailed by the Moors of that city, and there was severe skirmish- 
ing for a whole day; but while the main part of the army en- 
countered the enemy, the rest ravaged the whole vega and de- 
stroyed all the mills. As the object of the expedition was not 
to capture places, but merely to bum, ravage, and destroy, the 
host, satisfied with the mischief they had done in the vega, 
turned their backs upon Malaga, and again entered the moun- 
tains. They passed by Coin, and through the regions of Alia- 
zayna, and Gatero, and A].haurin; all which were likewise 
desolated. In this way did they make the circuit of that chair 
of rich and verdant valleys, the glory of those mountains anc 
the pride and dehght of the Moors. For forty days did thej 
continue on like a consuming fire, leaving a smoking anc 
howling waste to mark their course, until, weary with th< 
work of destruction, and having fully sated their revenge fo: 
the massacre of the Axarquia, they returned in triumph t< 
the meadows of Antiquera. 

In the month of June, king Ferdinand took command in pei 
son of this destructive army ; he increased its force, and adde< 
to its means of mischief several lombards and other heavy ai 
tiUery, intended for the battering of towns, and managed b; 
engineers from France and Germany. With these, the marque 
of Cadiz assured the king, he would soon be able to reduce tb 
Moorish fortresses. They were only calculated for defenc 
against the engines anciently used in warfare. Their^ wal 
and towers were high and thin, depending for security c 
their rough and rocky situations. The stone and iron baV 
thundered from the lom^bards would soon tumble them i 
ruins upon the heads of their defenders. 

The fate of Alora speedily proved the truth of this opinio: 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. ^7 

It was strongly posted on a rock washed by a river. The 
artiUery soon battered down two of the towers and a part of 
the wall. The Moors were thrown into consternation at the 
vehemence of the assault, and the effect of those tremendous 
engmes upon their vaunted bulwarks. The roaring of the 
artillery and the tumbling of the walls terrified the women 
who beset the alcayde with vociferous supplications to sur- 
render. The place was given up on the 20th of June, on con- 
dition that the inhabitants might depart with their effects. 
The people of Malaga, as yet unacquainted v/ith the power of 
this battering ordnance, were so incensed at those of Alora for 
-^hat they considered a tame surrender, that they would not 
admit them into their city. 

A similar fate attended the town of SetenU, built on a lofty 
rock and esteemed impregnable. Many times had it been be- 
sieged under former Christian kings, but never had it been 
taken. Even now, for several days the artillery was directed 
against it without effect, and many of the cavaliers murmured 
at the marques of Cadiz for having counselled the king to at- 
tack this unconquerable place.* 

On the same night that these reproaches were uttered the 
marques directed the artiUery himself: he leveUed the lom- 
bards at the bottom of the walls, and at the gates. In a Httle 
wlule, the gates were battered to pieces, a great breach was 
effected m the walls, and the Moors were fain to capitulate 
Twenty-four Christian captives, who had been taken in the 
defeat of the mountains of Malaga, were rescued from the 
dungeons of this fortress, and hailed the marques of Cadiz as 
their deliverer. 

Needless is it to mention the capture of various other places 
wrhich surrendered without waiting to be attacked. The Moors 
lad always shown great bravery and perseverance in defend- 
ng their towns; they were formidable in their saUies and 
'.kirmishes, and patient in enduring hunger and thirst when 
)esieged; but this terrible ordnance, which demolished their 
vails with such ease and rapidity, overwhelmed them with 
confusion and dismay, and rendered vain aU resistance. King 
^:^erdinand was so struck wich the effect of this artillery, that 
le ordered the number of lorn bards to be increased, and these 
•otent enguies had henceforth a great influence on the fortunes 
T this war. 



* Cura de los Palac 



118 THE CONQUEST OF GEANADA. 

The last operation of this year, so disastrous to the Moors, 
was an inroad by king Ferdinand, in the latter part of sum- 
mer, into the vega, in which he ravaged the country, burnt 
two villages near to Granada, and destroyed the mills near the 
very gates of the city. 

Old Muley Aben Hassan was overwhelmed with dismay at 
tliis desolation, which, during the whole year, had been raging 
throughout his territories, and had now reached to the walls of 
his capital. His fierce spirit was broken by misfortunes and 
infirmity; he offered to purchase a peace, and to hold his 
crown as a tributary vassal. Ferdinand would listen to no 
propositions : the absolute conquest of Granada was the great 
object of this war, and he was resolved never to rest con- 
tent without its complete fulfilment. Having suppHed and 
strengthened the garrisons of the places he had taken in the 
heart of the Moorish territories, he enjoined their commanders 
to render every assistance to the younger Moorish king, in the 
civil war against his father. He then returned with his army 
to Cordova, in great triumph, closing a series of ravaging cam- 
paigns, that had filled the kingdom of Granada with grief and 
consternation. 



CHAPTER XXVin. 

ATTEMPT OF EL ZAGAL TO SURPRISE BOABDIL IN ALMERIA, 

During this year of sorrow and disaster to the Moors, the '■ 
younger king Boabdil, most truly called the unfortunate, held 
a diminished and feeble court in the maritime city of Almeria. 
iHe retained little more than the uame of king, and was sup- 
ported in even this shadow of royalty, by the countenance and 
treasures of the Castilian sovereigns. Still he trusted, that, in 
the fluctuation of events, the inconstant nation might once 
more return to his standard, and replace him on the throne of 
the Alhambra. 

His mother, the high-spirited sultana Ayxa la Horra, en- 
deavored to rouse him from this passive state. ''It is a feeble 
mind," said she, "that waits for the turn of fortune's wheel ; 
the brave mmd seizes upon it, and turns it to its purpose. 
Take the field, and you may drive da^nger before you ; remain 
cowering at home, and it besieges you in. your dwelling. By 






THE CONQUEST OF OR AN AD A. ]]9 

a bold entei-prise you may regain your splendid throne in 
Granada; by passive forbearance, you will forfeit even this 
miserable throne in Almeria." 

Boabdil had not the force of soul to follow these courageous 
counsels, and in a little time the evils his mother had predicted 
fell upon him. 

Old Muley Aben Plassan was almost extinguished by age and 
infirmity. He had nearly lost his sight, nnd was completely 
bedridden. His brother Abdallah, surnamed El Zagal, or the 
valiant, the same who had assisted in the massacre of the 
Spanish chivalry among the mountains of Malaga, was com- 
mander-in-chief of the Moorish armies, and gradually took 
upon himself most of the cares of sovereignty. Among other 
things, he was particularly zealous in espousing his brother's 
quarrel with his son; and he prosecuted it with such vehe- 
mence, that many affirmed there was something more than 
mere fraternal sympathy at the bottom of his zeal. 

The disasters and disgraces inflicted on the country by the 
Christians durmg this year, had wounded the national feelings 
of the people of Almeria; and many had felt indignant that 
Boabdil should remam passive at such a time, or rather, should 
appear to make a common cause with the enemy. His uncle 
Abdallah diligently fomented this feehng, by liis agents. Tlie 
same arts were made use of, that had been successful in Gra- 
nada. Boabdil was secretly but actively denounced by the 
ilfaquis as an apostate, leagued with the Christians against his 
country and his early faith; the affections of the populace and 
soldiery were gi-a lually ahenated from him, and a deep con- 
spiracy concerted for his destiiiction. 

In the month of February, 1485, El Zagal suddenly appeared 
)ef(^re Ahneria, at the head of a troop of horse. The alfaquis 
v-orc prepared for his arrival, and the gates were thrown open 
o him. He entered with his band, and galloped to the citadel. 
1ie alcayde would have made resistance; but the garrison put 
ini to death, and received El Zagal with acclamations. El 
i-al rushed through the apartments of the Alcazar, but he 
)ught in vain for Boabdil. He found the sultana Ayxa la 
[orra in one of the saloons, with Ben Ahagete, a younger 
rother of the monarch, a vahant Abencerrage, and several 
rtendants, who rallied round tliem to protect them. 
Where is the traitor Boabdil?" exclaimed El Zagal. "I 
now no traitor more perfidious than thyself," exclaimed the 
itrepid sultana; '' and I trust my son is in safety to take ven 



^20 TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

geance on thy treason." The rage of El Zagal was without 
bounds, when he learnt that his intended victiin had escaped. 
In his f'uiy he slew the prince Ben Ahagete, and his followers 
fell upon and massacred the Abencerrage and attendants. As 
to the proud sultana, she was borne away prisoner, and loaded 
with revilings, as having upheld her son in his rebeUion, and 
fomented a civil war. 

The unfortimate Boabdil had been apprised of his danger by 
a faithful soldier, just in time to make his escape. Throwing 
himself on one of the fleetest horses in his stables, and followed 
by a handful of adherents, he had galloped in the confusion 
out of the gates of Almeria. Several of the cavahy of El Za- 
gal, who were stationed without the walls, perceived his flight, 
and attempted to pursue him; their horses were jaded with 
travel, and he soon left them far behind. But, whither was he 
to fly? Every fortress and castle in the kingdom of Granada 
was closed against him; he knew not whom among the Moors 
to trust, for they had been taught to detest him as a traitoi 
and an apostate. He had no alternative but to seek refuge 
among the Christians, his hereditary enemies. With a heavy 
heart, he turned his horse's head toward Cordova. He had tc 
lurk, like a fugitive, through a part of his own dominions ; noi 
did he feel himself secure, until he had passed the frontier, and 
beheld the mountain barrier of his country towering behind 
him. Then it was that he became conscious of his humili 
ating state— a fugitive from his throne, an outcast from hi^ 
nation, a king without a kingdom. He smote his breast, in ar 
agony of grief: " Evil indeed," exclaimed he, "was the day oi 
my birth, and tridy was I named El Zogoybi, the unlucky." 

He entered the gates of Cordova with downcast countenance,^ 
^^and with a train of but forty foUowers. The sovereigns were 
absent; but the cavahers of Andalusia manifested that symi 
pathy in the misfortunes of the monarch, that becomes men oi 
lofty and chivalrous souls. They received him with great dis 
tinction, attended him with the utmost courtesy, and he was 
honorably entertained by the civil and military commander> 
of that ancient city. , 

In the mean time, El Zagal put a new alcayde over Almeria 
to govern in the name of his brother; and, having strongh^ 
garrisoned the place, he repaired to Malaga, Avhere an attact 
of the Christians was apprehended. The young monarch be 
ing driven out of the land, and the old monarch blind and bed 
ridden. El Zagal, at the head of the armies, was virtually tli( 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 121 

sovereign of Granada. The people were pleased Avith having a 
new idol to look up to, and a new name to shout forth ; and 
El Zagal was hailed with acclamations, as the mail hope of the 
nation. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 



HOW KING FERDINAND COMMENCED ANOTHER CAMPAIGN AGAINST 
THE MOORS, AND HOW HE LAID SIEGE TO COIN AND CARTAMA. 

The great effect of the battering ordnance in demoUshing 
the Moorish fortresses in the preceding year, induced king 
Ferdinand to procure a powerful train for the campaign of 
1485, in the course of which he resolved to assault some of the 
most formidable holds of the enemy. An anny of nine thou- 
sand cavalry and twenty thousand infantry assembled at Cor- 
I dova, early in the spring ; and the king took the field on the 
I 5th of April. It had been determined in secret council, to 
I attack the city of Malaga, that ancient and important sea-port, 
i on which Granada depended for foreign aid and supplies. It 
: was thought proper previously, however, to get possession of 
I various towns and fortresses in the vaUeys of Santa Maria and 
rCartama, through which pass the roads to Malaga. 
• The first place assailed was the town of Benamaquex. It 
(had submitted to the Cathohc sovereigns in the preceding 
tyear, but had since renounced its allegiance. King Ferdinand 
ijwas eiu-aged at the rebeUion of the inhabitants. "I wiU make 

E'^ieir punishment," said he, "a terror to others: they shall be 
ya\ through force, if not through faith." The place was car- 
ed by storm : one hundred and eight of the principal inha- 
pbitants were either put to the sword or hanged on the battle- 
jments; the rest were carried into captivity.* 
|: The towns of Coin and Cartama were besieged on the same 
Jday ; the first by a division of the army led on by the marques 
' of Cadiz, the second by another division commanded by Don 
Monzo de Aguilar and Luis Fernandez Puerto Carrero, the 
i brave Senior of Palma. The king, with the rest of the army, 
remained posted between the two places, to render assistance 
GO either division. The batteries opened upon both places at 

I * rulgar, Garibay, Cura de los Palacios. 



122 TUE CONQUEST OF QRANADA. 

the same time, and the thunder of the lombards was mutually 
heard from one camp to the other. The Moors made frequent 
sallies, and a valiant defence ; but they were confounded by the 
tremendous uproar of the batteries, and the destruction of their 
walls. In the mean time, the alarm-fires gathered together the 
Moorish mountaineers of all the Serrania, who assembled in 
great numbers in the city of Monda, about a league from CoiUo 
They made several attempts to enter the besieged town, buti 
in vain; they were each time intercepted and driven back; 
by the Christians, and were reduced to gaze at a distance in i 
despair on the destruction of the place. While thus situated, , 
there rode one day into Monda a fierce and haughty Moorish i 
chieftain, at the head of a band of swarthy African horsemen; : 
it was Hamet el Zegri, the fiery-spirited alcayde of Ronda, at 
the head of his band of Gomeres. He had not yet recovered I 
from the rage and mortilication of his defeat on the banks of 
the Lopera, in the disastrous foray of old Bexir, when he had i 
been obliged to steal back furtively to his mountains, with the 
loss of the bravest of his followers. He had ever since panted ! 
for revenge. He now rode among the host of warriors assem- 
bled at Monda. " Who among you," cried he, "feels pity for 
the women and children of Coin, exposed to captivity and 
death? Whoever he is, let him follow me, who am ready to i| 
die as a Moslem for the relief of Moslems." So saying, he ^ 
seized a white banner, and, waving it over his head, rode forth |l 
from the town, followed by the Gomeres. Many of the war- 
riors, roused by his words and his example, spurred resolutely 
after his banner. The people of Coin, being prepared for this 
attempt, sallied forth as they saw the white banner, and made 
an attack upon the Christian camp ; and in the confusion of i 
the moment, Hamet and his followers galloped into the gates. 
This reinforcement animated the besieged, and Hamet ex- 
horted them to hold out obstinately in defence of life and , 
town. As the Gomeres were veteran warriors, the more they 
were attacked the harder they fought. 

At length, a great breach was made in the walls, and Fer ' 
dinand, who was impatient of the resistance of the place, 
ordered the duke of Naxera and the count of Benavente to 
enter with their troops; and as their forces were not suffi- 
cient, he sent word to Luis de Cerda, duke of Medina Celi, to 
send a part of his people to their assistance. 

The feudal pride of the duke was roused at this demand. 
"Tel} my lord the king," said the haughty grandee, "that I 



THE COKQVI^JST OP GRANADA. ;I93 

have come to succor him with my household troops- if my 
people are ordered to any place, I am to go with them; but if 
I am to remam in the camp, my people must remain with me 
For the troops camiot serve without their commander nor 
their commander without his troops. " ' 

The reply of the high-spirited grandee perplexed the cautious 
Ferdmand, who knew the jfealous pride of his powerful nobles 
In the mean time, the people of the camp, having made all 
preparations for the assault, were impatient to be led forward 
Upon this, Pero Ruyz de Alarcon put himself at their head* 
and, seizmg their mantas, or portable bulwarks, and their 
other defences, they made a gallant assault, and fought their- 
way m at the breach. The Moors were so overcome by the 
fury of their assault, that they retreated fighting to the square 
of the town. Pero Ruyz de Alarcon thought the place was ear- 
ned, when suddenly Hamet and liis Gomeres came scouring 
through the streets with wUd war-cries, and fell furiously upon 
the Christians. The latter were in their turn beaten back, and 
whHe attacked in front by the Gomeres, were assailed by the 
inhabitants with all kinds of missiles from their roofs and win 
iows. They at length gave way, and retreated through the 
breach. Pero Ruyz de Alarcon still maintained his ground 
m one of the principal streets— the few cavaliers that stood by 
aim urged him to fly: - No," said he; - I came here to fight, 
aid not to fly." He was presently surrounded by the Go- 
neres; his companions fled for their lives; the last they saw 
)f him, he was covered with wounds, but still fighting despo- 
ately for the fame of a good cavalier.* 
The resistance of the inhabitants, though aided by tlie valor 
f the Gomeres, was of no avail. The battering artillery of 
he Christians demolished their waUs; combustibles Avere 
hrown into their town, which set it on fire in various places 
nd they were at length compelled to capitulate. They were 
ermitted to depart with their effects, and the Gomeres Avitl 
leir arms. Hamet el Zegri and his African band sallied forth 
ad rode proudly through the Christian camp; nor could the 
panish cavahers refrain from regarding with admiration that 
aughty warrior and his devoted and dauntless followers. 
The capture of Coin was accompanied by that of Cartama: 
le fortifications of the latter were repaired and garrisoned ; 
it Coin being too extensive to be defended by a moderate 



Pulgar. part 3, cap. 42. 



124 THE CONQUEST OF ORANADA. 

force, its walls were demolished. The siege of these places 
struck such terror into the surrounding country that the 
Moors of many of the neighboring towns abandoned their 
homes, and fled with such of their effects as they could carry 
away; upon which the king gave orders to demolish their 
walls and towers. 

King Ferdinand now left his camp and his heavy artillery 
Viear Cartama, and proceeded with his lighter troops to recon [ 
'-noitre Malaga. By this time, the secret plan of attack, ar- | 
ranged in the council of war at Cordova, was known to all the ' 
world. The vigilant warrior El Zagal had thrown himself 
into the place ; he had put all the fortifications, which were of 
vast strength, into a state of defence ; and had sent orders to 
the alcaydes of the mountain town, to hasten with their forces 
to his assistance. 

The very day that Ferdinand appeared before the place, El j 
Zagal salhed forth to receive him, at the head of a thousand ! 
cavalry, the choicest warriors of Granada. A hot skirmish | 
took place among the gardens and olive-trees near the city, i 
Many were killed on both sides ; and this gave the Christians a 
sharp foretaste of what they might expect, if they attempted i 
to besiege the place. ' 

When the skirmish was over, the marques of Cadiz had a 
private conference with the king. He represented the diffi- 
culty of besieging Malaga with their present force, especially 
as their plans had been discovered and anticipated, and the 
whole country was marching over the mountains to oppose 
them. The marques, who had secret intelligence from all , 
quarters, had received a letter from Juceph Xerife, a Moor of 'i 
Ronda, of Christian lineage, apprising him of the situation of i^ 
'that important place and its garrison, which at that moment \ 
laid it open to attack ; and the marques was urgent with the 
king to seize upon this critical moment, and secure a place which 
was one of the most powerful Moorish fortresses on the fron- 
tiers, and in the hands of Hamet el Zegri had been the scourge 
of Andalusia. The good marques had another motive for his 
advice, becoming of a true and loyal knight. In the deep 
dungeons of Eonda languished several of his companions in 
arms, who had been captured in the defeat in the Axarquia. 
To break their chains, and restore them to liberty and light, 
he felt to be his peculiar duty, as one of those who had most 
promoted that disastrous enterprise. 

King Ferdinand listened to the advice of the marques. He 



TIIF. CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 12,j 

knew the importance of Ronda, which was considered one of 
the keys to the kingdom of Granada ; and lie wjus disposed to 
punish the inhabitants, for the aid they had rendered to the 
garrison of Coin. The siege of Malaga, therefore, was aban- 
doned for the present, and preparations made for a rapid and 
secret move against the city of Ronda. 



CHAPTER XXX. 



SIEGE OF RONDA. 



The bold Hamet el Zegri, the alcayde of Ronda, had re- 
turned sullenly to his strong-hold, after the surrender of Coin. 
He had fleshed his sword in battle with the Christians, but his 
thirst for vengeance was still unsatisfied. Hamet gloried in 
bhe strength of his fortress, and the valor of his people. A 
fierce and warlike populace was at his command ; his signal- 
fires could summon all the warriors of the Serrania; his 
Gromeres almost subsisted on the spoils of Andalusia ; and in 
he rock on which his fortress was built, were hopeless dun- 
geons, filled with Christian captives, who had been carried off 
&y these war-hawks of the mountains. 

Ronda was considered as impregnable. It was situated in 
he heart of wild and rugged mountains, and perched upon an 
solated rock, crested by a strong citadel, with triple walls and 
owers. A deep ravine, or rather a perpendicular chasm of 
lie rocks, of frightful depth, surrounded three parts of the 
fity; through this flowed the Rio Verde, or Green river. 
liere were two suburbs to the city, fortified by walls and 
Dwers, and almost inaccessible, from the natural asperity of 
lie rocks. Around this rugged city were deep rich valleys, 
heltered by the mountains, refreshed by constant streams, 
bounding with grain and the most dehcious fruits, and yiold- 
ig verdant meadows, in which was reared a renowned breed 
f horses, the best in the whole kingdom for a foray. 

Hamet el Zegri had scarcely returned to Ronda, when he 
Jceiyed intelligence that the Christian army was marching to 
le siege of Malaga, and orders from El Zagal to send troops to 

is assistance. Hamet sent a part of his garrison for that pur 
in the mean time, he meditated an expedition to which 



126 THE CONQUEST OF GBANADA. 

he was stimulated by pride and revenge. All Andalusia was 
now drained of its troops ; there was an opportunity therefore 
for an inroad, by which he might wipe out the disgrace of his 
defeat at the battle of Lopera. Apprehending no danger to his 
mountain city, now that the storm of war had passed down 
into the vega of Malaga, he left but a remnant of his garrison 
to man its walls, and putting himself at the head of his band 
of Gomeres, swept do vvn suddenly into the plains of Andalusia. 
He careered, almost without resistance, over those vast cam- 
piiias or pasture lands, which formed a part of the domains of 
the duke of Medina Sidonia. In vain the bells were rung, and 
the alarm-fires kindled— the band of Hamet had passed by, 
before any force could be assembled, and was only to be traced, 
like a hurricane, by the devastation it had made. 

Hamet regained in safety the Serrania de Eonda, exulting in 
his successful inroad. The mountain glens were filled with 
long droves of cattle and flocks of sheep, from the campmas of 
Medina Sidonia. There were mules, too, laden with the plun- 
der of the villages ; and every warrior had some costly spoil of 
jewels, for his favorite mistress. 

As the Zegri drew near to Eonda, he was roused from his 
dream of triumph by the sound of heavy ordnance bellowing 
through the mountain defiles. His heart misgave him— he put| 
spurs to his horse, and galloped in advance of his lae:ging caval- 
gada. As he proceeded, the noise of the ordnance increased,^ 
echoing from cliff to cliff. Spurring his horse up a craggy i! 
height which commanded an extensive view, he beheld, to his ; 
consternation, the country about Eonda white with the tents ; 
of a besieging army. The royal standard, displayed before a i 
proud encampment, showed that Ferdinand himself was pre- t 
sent; while the incessant blaze and thunder of artillery, andj 
the volumes of overhanging smoke, told the work of destruc-|ii 
tion that was going on. ; t! 

The royal army had succeeded in coming upon Eonda by ^ 
surprise, during the absence of its alcayde and most of its gar- ; 
risen; but its inhabitants were warlike, and defended them- ' 
selves bravely, trusting that Hamet and his Gomeres would ■ t 
soon return to their assistance. \ t 

The fancied strength of their bulwarks had been of little ii 
avail against the batteries of the besiegers. In the space of 
four days, three towers, and great masses of the walls which si* 
defended the suburbs, were battered down, and the suburbs h 
taken and phindered. Lombards and other heavv ordnance I 



THE CONQUEST OF OltANADA. 127 

wore now levelled at the walls of the city, and stones and mis^ 
Biles of all kinds hurled into the streets. The very rock on 
Which the city stood shook with the thunder of the artillery ; 
and the Christian captives, deep within its dungeons, hailed 
the sound as the promise of deliverance. 

When Hamet el Zegri beheld his city thus surrounded and 
assailed, he called upon his men to follow him, and make a 
desperate attempt to cut their way through to its rehef. They 
proceeded stealthily through the mountains, until they came 
to the nearest heights above the Christian camp. When night 
fell, and part of the army was sunk in sleep, they descended 
the rocks, and rushing suddenly upon the weakest pan of the 
camp, endeavored to break their way through and gain the 
city. The camp was too strong to be forced ; they were driven 
back to the crags of the mountains, from whence they defend- 
ed themselves by showering down darts and stones upon their 
pursuers. 

Hamet now lit alarm-fires above the heights : his standard 
was joined by the neighboring mountaineers, and by troops 
from Malaga. Thus reinforced, he made repeated assaults 
upon the Christians, cutting off all stragglers from the camp. 
^11 his attempts, however, to force his way into the city, were 
fruitless; many of his bravest men were slain, and he was 
obliged to retreat mto the fastnesses of the mountains. 

In the meanwhile, the distress of Ronda was hourly increas- 
ing. The marques of Cadiz, ha\ang possession of the suburbs, 
vas enabled to approach to the very foot of the perpendicular 
)recipice rising from the river, on the summit of which the 
lity is built. At the foot of this rock is a living fountain of 
irapid water, gushmg into a great natural basin. A secret 
nine led down from within the city to this fountain by several 
lundred steps cut in the sohd rock. From hence the city ob- 
ained its cliief supply of water; and these steps were deeply 
p-orn by the weary feet of Christian captives, employed m 
his painful labor. The marques of Cadiz discovered this sub- 
erranean passage, and directed his pioneers to countermine 
a the side of the rock : they pierced to the shaft, and, stop- 
ing it up, deprived the city of the benefit of this precious 
>untain. 

While the brave marques of Cadiz was thus pressing the 
lege with zeal, and glowing with the generous thoughts of 
oon delivering his companions in arms from the JVIoorish 
ungeons, far other were the feelings of the alcayde Hamet el 



128 THE CONQUEST OF OEANAJJA. 

Zegri. He smote his breast and gnashed his teeth in impoten 
fury, as he beheld from the mountain chff s the destruction o \ 
the city. Every thunder of the Christian ordnance seemed t< 
batter against his heart. He saw tower after tower tumbling* 
by day, and at night the city blazed hke a volcano. "The^ 
fired not merely stones from their ordnance," says a chronicle^: 
of the times, " but hkevdse great balls of iron, cast in moulds 
which demolished every thing they struck." They threw als( 
balls of tow, steeped in pitch and oil and gunpowder, which; 
when once on fire, were not to be extinguished, and which set; 
the houses in flames. Great was the horror of the inhabitants 
they knew not where to fly for refuge : their houses were in i 
blaze, or shattered by the ordnance ; the streets were perilouf ^ 
from the falling ruins and the bounding balls, which dasheci 
to pieces every thing they encountered. At night, the citj' 
looked like a fiery furnace; the cries and waihngs of the wO' 
men were heard between the thunders of the ordnance, and' 
reached even to the Moors on the opposite mountains, whc; 
answered them by yells of fury and despair. 

All hope of external succor being at an end, the inhabitants! 
of Ronda were compelled to capitulate. Ferdinand was easily i 
prevailed upon to grant them favorable terms. The place was ; 
capable of longer resistance; and he feared for the safety of i 
his camp, as the forces were daily augmenting on the moun- 
tains, and making frequent assaults. The inhabitants werei 
permitted to depart with their effects, either to Barbary or 
elsewhere; and those who chose to reside in Spain, had lands 
assigned them, and were indulged in the practice of their 
religion. 

No sooner did the place surrender, than detachments were 
sent to attack the Moors who hovered about the neighboring 
mountains. Hamet el Zegri, however, did not remain to make 
a fruitless battle. He gave up the game as lost, and retreated 
with his Gomeres, filled with grief and rage, but trusting to 
fortune to give him future vengeance. 

The first care of the good marques of Cadiz, on entering 
Ronda, was to deliver his unfortunate companions in arms 
from the dungeons of the fortress. What a difference in their 
looks from the time when, flushed with health and hope, and 
arrayed in mihtary pomp, they had sallied forth upon the 
mountain foray! Many of them were almost naked, with 
irons at their ankles, and beards reaching to their waists. 
Their meeting with the marques was joyful; yet it had the 



TIIIC COKQVICST OF OliANADA. 129 

look of grief; for their joy was mingled uith many bitter 
recoUections. There was an immense number of o°her cn^ 
tives, among whom were several young men of noble ftmnSf 

£•; :f rSS- ''-' —'--' *— •- 1»-™^> 

f^T^- TL^=:^i^.rotrbi-m:i^- 

the sight of tj.e piteous cavaleade. They were .-Ul tpS by 
her wath food aoid raiment, and money to pay their'lixpenses 
to their homes. Their chains were hmig as pious troplSes 
against the exterior of the ehurch of St. Juan de los Iteyes fa 
Toledo where the Christian traveller may regale his eyes with 
the sight of them at this very day. ^ 

Among the Moorish eaptives was a young infidel maiden nf 

' S'ta'r VJ' f r ' *° '^.^""^^ a'chritirifa:drtmkL 

fJifW ^.u''*'^ ^^''' '"^P'^*^'^ ^^"'^ tl^« %ht of the true 

I captn e in Ronda. He was anxioiw to complete his good work 
; by marrying her. The queen consented to their piof^ wiThes 
|havmg fir^t taken eare that the yoimg maiden should TeS 

perlypunfied by the holy sacrament of baptism 

Lf y^^7 f'^ "^f '"* °^'* °^ ^'*'^'^'-° a'ld infidelity, the city 

verted t' thf t,.^ r.f .^ ':f ^ ^°*'^'^^° ^S^P'<J-' ' ' --« ^on 
veiled to the true faith by the thunder of our artillei-v-an 

ZT!l""'^''''^!^ "^"^ ^°"°^"<^'l '^y Casanbonela, Afarbella 
tad other towns m these parts, insomuch that in the couree of 
this expedition no less than seventy-two places were rescued 

StirofTe^^rr- '""• ^"^ '"^^ -^- '^^ ^'^^^ 



CHAPTER XXXL 

HOW THE PEOPLE OF GRANADA INVrTED EL ZAGAL TO THE 
THRONE, AND HOW HE MARCHED TO THE CAPITAL. 

The people Of Granada were a versatUe, unsteady race and 
xceedmgly given to make and unmake k ngs. Tliey had for 

i "rCbcnf e/'pv ""''''''"^ '"' Muleylben nls'^fand 
^es^Wt^ ? '°' ^°°>etimes setting up the one, some- 
Sf ^Z ' ''"'^ sometimes both at once, according to the 

ftch and pressure of external evils. They found, however 



130 THE CONQUEST OF OEANADA. 

that the evils still went on increasing, in defiance of every, 
change, and were at their wits' end to devise some new com- 1 
bination or arrangement, by which an efficient government: 
might be wrought out of two bad kings. When the tidings 
arrived of the fall of Eonda, and the consequent ruin of the ; 
frontier, a tumultuous assemblage took place in one of the, 
public squares. As usual, the people attributed the misfor-; 
tunes of the country to the faults of their rulers; for the! 
populace never imagine that any part of their miseries can! 
originate with themselves. A crafty aKaqui, named Alymel 
Mazer, who had watched the current of their discontents, 
rose and harangued them: "You have been choosing and 
changing," said he, "between two monarchs — and who and 
what are they? Muley Aben Hassan, for one; a man worn 
out by age and infirmities, unable to sally forth against the 
foe, even when ravaging to the very gates of the city : — and • 
Boabdil el Chico, for the other; an apostate, a traitor, a de- 
serter from his throne, a fugitive among the enemies of his 
nation, a man fated to misfortune, and proverbially named 
'the unlucky.' In a time of overwhelming war, like the 
present, he only is fit to sway a sceptre who can wield a 
sword. Would you seek such a man? You need not look 
far. Allah has sent such a one, in this time of distress, to 
retneve the fortunes of Granada. You already know whom 
I mean. You know that it can be no other than your gen- 
eral, the invincible Abdallah, whose surname of El Zagal 
nas become a Y>ratch-word in battle, rousing the courage of 
the faithful, and striking terror into the unbelievers." 

The multitude received the words of the alfaqui with ac- 
clamations ; they were delighted with the idea of a third king 
over Granada ; and Abdalla el Zagal being of the royal family, 
and already in the virtual exercise of royal power, the measure 
had nothing in it that appeared either rash or violent. A 
deputation was therefore sent to El Zagal at Malaga, mviting 
him to repair to Granada to receive the crown. 

El Zagal expressed great surprise and repugnance, when the 
mission was announced to him; and nothing but his patriotic- 
zeal for the public safety, and his fraternal eagerness to reheve 
the aged Aben Hassan from the cares of government, pre- 
vailed upon him to accept the offer. Leaving, therefore, 
Rodovan Vanegas, one of the bravest Moorish generals, in 
command of Malaga, he departed for Granada, attended by 
three hundred trusty cavavliers. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 181 

Old Muley Aben Hassan did not wait for the arrival of his 
brother. Unable any longer to buffet with the storms of the 
times, his only solicitude was to seek some safe and quiet har- 
bor of repose. In one of the deep valleys which indent the 
Mediterranean coast, and which are shut up on the land side 
by stupendous mountains, stood the little city of Ahnunecar. 
The valley was watered by the limpid river Frio, and 
abounded with fruits, with grain and pasturage. The city 
was strongly fortified, and the garrison and alcayde were 
devoted to the old monarch. This was the place chosen by 
Muley Aben Hassan for his asylum. His first care was to 
send thither all his treasures ; his next care was to take refuge 
there himself; his third, that his sultana Zorayna, and their 
two sons, should follow him. 

In the mean time, Muley Abdallah el Zagal pursued his jour- 
ney towards the capital, attended by his three hundred cava- 
liers. The road from Malaga to Granada winds close by 
Alhama, and is dominated by that lofty fortress. This had 
been a most perilous pass for the Moors, during the time that 
Alhama was commanded by the count de Tendilla : not a trav- 
eller could escape his eagle eye, and his garrison was ever 
ready for a sally. The count de TendiUa, however, had been 
relieved from this arduous post, and it had been given in 
charge to Don Gutiere de Padilla, clavero, or treasurer of the 
order of Calatrava; an easy, indulgent man, who had with 
him three hundred gallant knights of his order, besides other 
mercenary troops. The garrison had f aUen off in discipline ; 
the cavaliers were hardy in fight and daring in foray, but con- 
fident in themselves and negligent of proper precautions. 
Just before the journey of El Zagal, a number of these cava- 
Hers, with several soldiers of fortune of the garrison, in aU 
about one hundred and seventy men, had sallied forth to 
harass the Moorish country during its present distracted state, 
: and, having ravaged the valleys of the Sierra Nevada, or 
\; Snowy Mountains, were returning to Alhama in gay spirits 
i; and laden with booty. 

1 1 As El Zagal passed thi'ough the neighborhood of Alhama, he 
V recollected the ancient perils of the road, and sent hght cerra- 
dors in advance, to inspect each rock and ravine where a foe 
might lurk in ambush. One of these scouts, overlooking a 
narrow valley which opened upon the road, descried a troop of 
horsemen on the banks of a little stream. They were dis- 
>' mounted, and had taken the bridles from their steeds, that 



132 THE COIi QUEST OF GRANADA, 

they miglit crop the fresh grass on the banks of the river. 
The horsemen were scattered about, some reposing in the 
shades of rocks and trees, others gambhng for the spoil thej^ 
had taken: not a sentinel was posted to keep guard; every 
thing showed the perfect secuiity of men who consider them= 
selves beyond the reach of danger. 

These careless cavaliers were in fact the knights of Gala- 
trava, with a part of their companions in arms, returning from 
their foray. A part of their force had passed on with the 
cavalgada ; ninety of the principal cavaliers had halted to re- 
fresh themselves in this valley. El Zagal smiled with ferocious 
joy, when he heard of their negligent secm"ity. ' ' Here will be 
trophies," said he, "to grace our entrance into Granada." 

Approaching the valley with cautious silence, he wheeled 
into it at full speed at the head of his troop, and attacked the 
Christians so suddenly and furiously, that they had not time 
to put the bridles upon their horses, or even to leap into the 
saddles. They made a confused but valiant defence, fighting 
among the rocks, and in the rugged bed of the river. Their 
defence was useless ; seventy-nine were slain, and the remain- 
ing eleven were taken prisoners. 

A party of the Moors galloped in pursuit of the cavalgada: 
they soon overtook it, winding slowly up a hill. The horse- 
men who convoyed it, perceiving the enemj/ at a distance, 
made their escape, and left the spoil to be retaken by the 
Moors. El Zagal gathered together his captives and his booty, 
and proceeded, elate with success, to Granada. 

He paused before the gate of Elvira, for as yet he had not 
been procla,imed king. This ceremony was immediately per- 
formed ; for the fame of his recent exploit had preceded him, 
and had intoxicated the minds of the giddy populace. He 
entered Granada in a sort of triumph. The eleven captive 
knights of Calatrava walked in front: next were paraded the 
ninety captured steeds, bearing the armor a,nd weapons of 
their late owners, and led by as many mounted Moors : then 
came seventy Moorish horsemen, with as many Christian 
heads hanging at their saddle-bows : Muley AbdaUah el Zagal 
followed, surrounded by a number of distinguished cavaliers 
splendidly attired ; and the pageant was closed by a long cav- 
algada of the flocks and herds, and other ^>ooty, recovered 
from the Christians.* 



* Zui-ita, lib. 20, c. 62. Mariana, Hist, de Espana. Abarca iV-iales de Aragon, 



THE CONQUEST OF GUANA DA. I33 

Tlie populace gazed with almost savap:o triumph at these 
captive cavaUcrs and the gory heads of their companions, 
knowing them to have been part of tlie formidable garr»:on of 
Alhama, so long the scourge of Granada and the terror of the 
yega. They hailed tliis petty triumph as an auspicious open- 
ing of the reign of their new monarch ; for several days, the 
names of Muley Aben Hassan and Boabdil el Chico were never 
mentioned but with contempt, and the whole city resounded 
with the praises of El Zagal, or the valiant. 



CHAPTER XXXn. 

HOW THE COUNT DE CABRA ATTEMPTED TO CAPTURE ANOTHER 
KING, AND HOW HE FARED IN HIS ATTEMPT. 

The elevation of a bold and active veteran to the throne of 
Granada, in place of its late bedridden king, made an impor- 
tant difference in the aspect of the war, and called for some 
blow that should dash the confidence of the Moors in their new 
monarch, and animate the Christians to fresh exertions. 

Don Diego de Cordova, the brave count de Cabra, was at 
this time in his castle of Vaena, Avhere he kept a wary eye 
upon the frontier. It was now the latter part of August, and 
he grieved that the sununer should pass away without an in- 
road into the country of the foe. He sent out his scouts on 
the prowl, and they brought him word that the important post 
of Moclin was but wealdy garrisoned. This was a castellated 
town, strongly situated upon a high mountain, partly sur- 
rounded by thick forests, and partly girdled by a river. It 
defended one of the rugged and solitary passes, by which the 
Christians were wont to make their inroads ; insomuch that the 
iloors, in their figurative way, denominated it the shield of 
jrranada. 

The count de Cabra sent word to the monarchs of the feeble 
itate of the garrison, and gave it as liis opinion, that, by a 
ecret and rapid expedition, the place might be surprised. 
Cing Ferdinand asked the advice of his counsellors. Some 
autioned him against the sanguine temperament of the count, 
nd his heedlessness of clanger; Moclin, they observed, was 
ear to Granada, and might be promptly reinforced. The 
pinion of the count, however, prevailed ; the king considering 



134 THE CONQUEST OF QBANADA. 

him almost infallible, in matters of border warfare, since Ms 
capture of Boabdil el Chico. 

The king departed, therefore, from Cordova, and took post 
at Alcala la Real, for the purpose of being near to Moclin. 
The queen, also, proceeded to Vaena, accompanied by her 
children, prince Juan and the princess Isabella, and her great 
counsellor in all matters, public and private, spiritual and tem- 
jporal, the venerable grand cardinal of Spain. 
' Nothing could exceed the pride and satisfaction of the loyal 
count de Cabra, when he saw this stately train winding along 
the dreary mountain roads, and entering the gates of Vaena. 
He received his royal guests with all due ceremony, and 
lodged them in the best apartments that the warrior castle 
afforded, being the same that had formerly been occupied by 
the royal captive Boabdil. 

King Ferdinand had concerted a wary plan, to insure the 
success of the enterprise. The count de Cabra and Don 
Martin Alonzo de Montemayor were to set forth with their 
troops, so as to reach Moclin by a certain hour, and to inter- 
cept all who should attempt to enter, or should sally from the 
town. The Master of Calatrava, the troops of the grand car- 
dmal, commanded by the count of Buendia, and the forces of 
the bishop of Jaen, led by that belligerent prelate, amounting 
in all to four thousand horse and six thousand foot, were to set 
off in time to co-operate with the count de Cabra, so as to sur- 
round the town. The king was to follow with his whole force, 
and encamp before the place. 

And here the worthy padre Fray Antonio Agapida breaks 
forth into a triumphant eulogy of the pious prelates, who thus 
raingled personally in these scenes of warfare. As this was a 
holy crusade (says he) undertaken for the advancement of the 
faith and the glory of the church, so was it always coun- 
tenanced and upheld by saintly men : for the victories of their 
most Cathohc majesties were not followed, hke those of mere 
worldly sovereigns, hj erecting castles and towers, and ap- 
pointing alcaydes and garrisons ; but by the founding of con- 
vents and cathedrals, and the establishment of wealthy bishop- 
rics. Wherefore their majesties were always surrounded, in 
court or camp, in the cabinet or in the field, by a crowd of 
ghostly advisers, inspiriting them to the prosecution of this 
most righteous war. Nay, the holy men of the church did not 
scruple, at times, to buckle on the cuirass over the cassock, 
to exchange the crosier for the lance, and thus, with corporal 



TllK CONQUEST OF GRANADA. ;I35 

bands and temporal weapons, to fight the good fight of the 
faith. 

But to retui-n from this rhapsody of the worthy friar. The 
count de Cabra, being instructed in the comphcated arrange- 
ments of the king, marched forth at midnight to execute them 
punctuaUy. He led his troops by the little river that winds 
below Vaena, and so up the wild defiles of the mountains 
marching aU night, and stopping only in the heat of the fol- 
lowing day, to repose under the shadowy cliffs of a deep 
barranca, calculating to arrive at Moclin exactly in time to co- 
operate with the other forces. 

Tlie troops had scarcely stretched themselves on the earth to 
take repose, when a ccout arrived, bringing word that El 
Zagal had suddenly salhed out of Granada with a strong force 
and had encamped in the vicinity of Moclin. It was plain that 
the wary Moor had received information of the intended at- 
tack. This, however, was not the idea that presented itself to 
the mind of the count de Cabra. He had captured one king 
—here was a fair opportunity to secure another. What a tri- 
umph, to lodge another captive monarch in his castle of 
Vaena!— what a prisoner to deliver into the hands of his royal 
mistress! Fired with the thoughts, the good count forgot 
all the arrangements of the king; or rather, blinded by former 
success, he trusted every thing to courage and fortune, and 
thought that, by one bold swoop, he might again bear off the 
royal prize, and wear his laurels without competition.* His 
only fear was that the Master of Calatrava, and the belliger- 
ent bishop, might come up in time to share the glory of the 
victory; so, ordering every one to horse, this hot-spirited cava- 
lier pushed on for Moclin, without aUo^ving his troops the 
aecessary time for repose. 

The evening closed, as the count arrived in the neighborhood 
rf Moclin. It was the full of the moon, and a bright and 
Jloudless night. The count was marching through one of 
ihose deep valleys or ravines, worn in the Spanish mountains 
)y the brief but tremendous torrents which prevail during the 
lutunmal rains. It was walled on each side by lofty and 
Omost perpendicular chffs, but great masses of moonlight 
vere thrown mto the bottom of the glen, glittering on the 
irmor of the shining squadrons, as they silently passed through 
^fc. Suddenly the war-cry of the Moors rose in various parts 

* Mariana, lib. 25, c. 17. Abarca, Zurita, &c. 



136 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

of the valley; " El Zagal! El Zagal!" was shouted from every 
cliff, accompanied by showers of missiles, that struck down 
several of the Christian warriors. The count hfted up his eyes, 
and belield, by the light of the moon, every cliff ghstening 
with Moorish soldiery. The deadly shower fell thickly round 
him, and the shining armor of his followers made them fair 
objects for the aim of the enemy. The count saw his brother 
Gonzalo struck dead by his side; his own horse sunk under 
him, pierced by four Moorish lances ; and he received a wound 
in the hand from an arquebuss. He remembered the horrible 
massacre of the mountains of Malaga, and feared a similar 
catastrophe. There was no time to pause. His brother's 
horse, freed from his slaughtered rider, was running at large ; 
seizing the reins, he sprang into the saddle, called upon his 
men to follow him, and, wheehng round, retreated out of the 
fatal valley. 

The Moors, rushing down from the heights, pursued the re- 
treating Christians. The chase endured for a league, but it 
was a league of rough and broken road, where the Christians 
had to turn and fight at almost every step. In these short but 
fierce combats, the enemy lost many cavaliers of note; but 
the loss of the Christians was infinitely more grievous, com- 
prising numbers of the noblest warriors of Vaena and its 
vicinity. Many of the Christians, disabled by wounds or ex- 
hausted by fatigue, turned aside and endeavored to conceal 
themselves among rocks and thickets, but never more rejoined 
their companions, being slain or captured by the Moors, or 
perishing in their wretched retreats. 

The arrival of the troops led by the Master of Calatrava and 
the bishop of Jaen, put an end to the rout. El Zagal contented 
himself with the laurels he had gained, and, ordering the 
trumpets to call off his men from the pursuit, returned in 
great triumph to Mochn.* 

Queen Isabella was at Vaena, awaiting with great anxiety 
the result of the expedition. She was in a stately apartment 
of the castle, looking towards the road that winds through the 
mountains from Moclin, and regarding the watch-towers that 
crowned the neighboring heights, in hopes of favorable signals. 
The prince and princess, her children, were with her, and her 
venerable counsellor, the grand cardinal. All shared in the 
anxiety of the moment. At length couriers were seen riding 

* Zui-ita, lib. 20, c. 4. Pulg^ar, Cronica. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 1;^ 

towards the town. Thoy entered its gates, but before thoy 
reached the castle, the nature of their tidings was known to 
the queen, by the shrieks and waiUngs that rose from the 
streets below. The messengers were soon followed by wounded 
fugitives, hastening home to be relieved, or to die among their 
friends and families. The whole town resounded with lamen- 
tations ; for it had lost the flower of its youth, and its bravest 
warriors. Isabella was a woman of courageous soul, but her 
feehngs were overpowered by the spectacle of wo which pre- 
sented itself on every side ; her maternal heart mourned over 
the death of so many loyal subjects, who so shortly before had 
raUied round her with devoted affection ; and, losing her usual 
self-command, she sunk into deep despondency. 

In this gloomy state of mind, a thousand apprehensions 
crowded upon her. She dreaded the confidence which this 
success would impart to the Moors ; she feared also for the im- 
portant fortress of Alhama, the garrison of which had not been 
reinforced smce its foraging party had been cut off by this 
same El Zagel. On every side the queen saw danger and dis- 
aster, and feared that a general reverse was about to attend 
the Castihan arms. 

The grand cardinal comforted her with both spiritual and 
worldly counsel. He told her to recollect that no country was 
ever conquered without occasional reverses to the conquerors ; 
that the Moors were a warlike people, fortified in a rough and 
mountainous country, where they never could be conquered 
by her ancestors, — and that in fact her armies had already, in 
three years, taken more cities than those of any of her pre- 
decessors had been able to do in twelve. He concluded by 
offering himself to take the field, with three thousand cavalry, 
his own retainers, paid and maintained by himself, and either 
t hasten to the rehef of Alhama, or imdertake any other ex- 
pedition her majesty might command. The discreet words of 
he cardinal soothed the spirit of the queen, who always looked 
.0 him for consolation; and she soon recovered her usual 
)quanimity. 

Some of the counsellors of Isabella, of that politic class who 
;eek to rise by the faults of others, were loud in their censures 
)f the rashness of the count. The queen defended him, with 
)rompt generosity. "The enterprise," said she, "was rash, 
>ut not more rash than that of Lucena, which was crowned 
dth success, and which we have all applauded as the Jieiglit 
■f heroism. Had the count de Cabra succeeded in capturing 

11 



138 TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

the uncle, as he did the nephew, who is there that would not i 
have praised him to the skies?" 

The magnanimous words of the queen put a stop to all in- 
vidious remarks in her presence ; but certain of the courtiers, 
who had envied the count the glory gained by his former 
achievements, continued to magnify, among themselves, his 
present imprudence, and we are told by Fray Antonio Agapida, 
that they sneermgly gave the worthy cavaher the appellation 
of count de Cabra, the king-catcher. 

Ferdinand had reached the place on the frontier called the 
Fountain of the King, within three leagues of Moclin, when he 
heard of the late disaster. He greatly lamented the precipita- 
tion of the count, but forbore to express himself with severity, 
for he knew the value of that loyal and valiant cavalier.* He 
held a council of war, to determine what course was to be pur- 
sued. Some of his cavaliers advised him to abandon the at- 
tempt upon Moclin, the place being strongly reinforced, and 
the enemy inspirited by his recent victory. Certain old Span- 
ish hidalgos reminded him that he had but few Castilian troops 
in his army, without which staunch soldiery his predecessors 
never presumed to enter the Moorish territory ; while others 
remonstrated that it would be beneath the dignity of a king to 
retire from an enterprise, on account of the defeat of a single 
cavalier and his retainers. In this way the king was dis- 
tracted by a multitude of counsellors, when fortunately a let- 
ter from the queen put an end to his perplexities. Proceed we, 
in the next chapter, to relate what was the purport of that 
letter. 



CHAPTER XXXin. 

EXPEDITION AGAINST THE CASTLES OF OAMBIL AND ALBAHAR. 

" Happy are those princes," exclaims the worthy padre Fray 
Antonio Agapida, ''who have women and priests to advise 
them, for in these dwelleth the spirit of counsel." While 
Ferdinand and his captains were confounding each other in 
their deliberations at the Fountain of the King, a quiet but 
deep little council of war was held in the state apartment of 

* Abarca, Anales de Aragon, 



Tim COh'QUKST OF GRANADA. 1:59 

the old castle of Vacna, between queen Isabella, the venerable 
Pedro Gonzalez do Mendoza, gi-and cardinal of Spain, and Don 
Garcia Osorio, the belligerent bishop of Jaen. This last wortliy 
prelate, who had exchanged his mitre for a helm, no sooner 
beheld the defeat of the enterprise against Moclin, than he 
turned the reins of his sleek, stall- fed steed, and hastened 
back to Vaena, full of a project lor the employment of the 
ai-my, the advancement of the faith, and the benefit of his 
own diocese. He knew that the actions of the king were in- 
fluenced by the opinions of the queen, and tliat the queen 
always inclined a listening ear to the counsels of saintly men : 
he laid his plans, therefore, with the customary wisdom of his 
cloth, to turn the ideas of the queen into the proper chan- 
nel; and tills was the purjwrt of the worthy bishop's sug- 
gestions. 

The bishopric of Jaen had for a long time been harassed by 
two Moorish castles, the scourge and ten*or of all that part of 
the country. They were situated on the frontiers of the king- 
dom of Granada, about four leagues from Jaen, in a deep, nar- 
row, and rugged valley, surrounded by lofty mountains. 
Through this valley runs the Rio I'rio, (or Cold river,) in a 
deep channel, worn between liigh precipitous banks. On each 
i side of the stream rise two vast rocks, nearly pei-pendicular, 
within a stone's-throw of each other ; blocking up the gorge of 
the vallcj^ On the summits of these rocks stood the two for- 
midable castles, Cambil and Albahar, fortified with battle- 
ments and towei^ of gi-eat height and thickness. They were 
connected together by a bridge thrown from rock to rock 
across the river. The road, which passed through the valley, 
traversed this bridge, and was completely commanded by these 
castles. They stood like two giants of romance, guarding the 
pass, and dominating the valley. 

The kings of Granada, knowing the importance of these cas- 

; ties, kept them always well garrisoned, and victualled to stand 

■i a siege, with fleet steeds and hard rldere, to foi-age the countr>- 

I !of the Christians. The warlike race of the Abencerrages, the 

; Droops of the royal household, and others of the choicest chlval- 

( ry of Gra-nada, made them their strong-holds, or posts of arms, 

from whence to sally forth on those predatory and roving en- 

erprisea which were the delight of the Moorish cavaliers. A;? 

be wealthy bishopric of Jaen lay immediately at hand, it suf- 

' ' ' od more peculiarly from these marauders. They drove off the 

'KXJves and the flocks of sheep from the pastures, and swept 



140 TUE CONQUEST OF G BAN AD A. 

the laborers from the field; they scoured the country to the 
very gates of Jaen, so tliat the citizens could not venture fi'om 
their walls, without the risk of being borne off captive to tlie 
dungeons of these castles. 

The worthy bishop, hke a good pastor, beheld with grief of 
heart his fat bishopric daily waxing leaner and leaner, and 
poorer and poorer; and his holy ire was kindled at the thoughts ^ 
that the possessions of the church should thus be at the mercy 
of a crew of infidels. It was the urgent counsel of the bishop, , 
therefore, that the military force, thus providentially assem- 
bled in the neighborhood, since it was apparently foiled in its 
attempt upon Moclm, should be turned against these insolent i 
castles, and the country dehvered from then- doimnation. The 
grand cardinal supported the suggestion of the bishop, and de-- 
clared that he had long meditated the pohcy of a measure of 
the kind. Their united opinions found favor with the (]ueen, 
and she dispatched a letter on the subject to the king. It 
came just in thne to reheve him from the distraction of & ' 
multitude of counsellors, and he immediately undertook th^l 
reduction of those castles. 

The marques of Cadiz was accordingly sent in advance, : 
Avith two thousand horse, to keep a watch upon the garrb 
sons, and prevent all entrance or exit, until the king should ; 
arrive with the main army and the battering artillery. The 
queen, to be near at hand in case of need, moved her quar-li 
ters to the city of Jaen, where she was received Avith mar-| 
tial honors by the beUigerent bishop, who had buckled on his i 
cuirass and girded on his sword, to fight in the cause of nis 
diocese. 

In the mean time, the marques of Cadiz arrived in the val- 
ley, and completely shut up the Moors Avithin their Avails. 
The castles were under the command of Mahomet Lentin Ben 
Usof, an Abencerrage, and one of the bravest cavaliers of ^ 
Granada. In his garrisons Avere many troops of the fierce 
African tribe of Gomeres. Mahomet Lentin, confident in the 
strength of his fortresses, sm^iled as he looked down from his 
battlements upon the Christian cavalry, perplexed in the 
rough and narrow valley. He sent forth skirmishing parties 
to harass them, and there were many sharp combats betAA^een 
small parties and single knights; but the Moors Avere driven 
back to their castles, and all attempts to send intelhgence ot 
their situation to Granada, were frustrated by the vigilance 
of the marques of Cadiz. 



THE COKQVhJST OF GltANADA. 141 

At length the legions of the royal army came pouring, with 
vainiting trumpet and liuttering banner, along the deliles of 
the inouiiLains. They halted before the castles, but the Idng 
could not find room in the narrow and rugged valley to form 
his camp: he had to dhdde it into three parts, which were 
posted on different heights; and his tents whitened the sides of 
the neighboring hills. Vv^hen the encampment was formed, the 
army remamed gazuig idly at the casLles. The artillery was 
upwards of four leagues in the rear, and without artillery all 
attack would be m vam. 

The alcayde Mahomet Lentin knew the nature of the road by 
which the artillery had to be brought. It was merely a nar- 
row and rugged i)ath, at times scahng almost perpendicidar 
crags and precipices, up which it was utterly unpossible for 
wheel carriages to pass; neither was it in the power of man or 
bea.'3t to draw up the lombards, and other ponderous ordnance. 
He felfc assured, therefore, that they never could be brouglit to 
the camp ; and, without their aid, what could the Christians 
elfecbagairist his rock-built castles? fie scotfed at them, there- 
fore, as he sav/ their tents by day and their fires by night cov- 
ering the surrounding heights. " Let them linger here a little 
wliile longer," said he, '' and the autumnal torrents will w^ash 
them from the mountains." 

Wliile the alcayde was thus closely mewed up w-itliin his 

walls, ann the Chiistians remained inactive in then- camp, he 

noticed, one cahn autumnal day, the sound of implements of 

Icibor echoing among the mountains, and now and then the 

r'rash of a. falling tree, or a thundering report, as if some rock 

had been heaved from its bed and hurled into the valley. The 

ilraydewas on the battlements of his castle, surrounded by hi<5 

mights. "Methinks," said he, ''these Christians are making 

vnr upon the rocks and trees of the m.ountains, since they find 

■iir castles unassailable." 

T]\Q sounds did not cea?e even during the night: every now 

• then, the Moorish sentinel, as he paced the battlements, 

rd some crash echoing among the heights. The return of 

explained the mystery. Scarcely did the sun shine against 

summits of the mountains, than shouts burst from the cliffs 

:>]>!)site to the castles, and were answered from the camp, with 

n ful sound of kettle-drums and trumpets. 

The astonished Moors lifted up their ej^es, and bolield. as it 

ere, a torrent of w^ar breaking out of a narrow defile. There 

as a multitude of men, with pickaxes, spades, and bars of 



142 TUE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

iron, clearing away every obstacle ; wliHe behind tliem slowly 
moved along great teams of oxen, dragging heavy ordnance, 
and ail the munitions of battering artillery. 

"What cannot women and priests eifect, when they unite 
in council?" exclaims again the worthy Antonio Agapida. The 
queen had held another consultation with the grand cardinal 
and the belligerent bishop of Jaen. It was clear that tho 
heavy ordnance could never be convej^ed to the camp by the 
regular road of the country ; and without battering artillery, 
notliing could be effected. It was suggested, however, by the 
zealous bishop, that another road might be opened, through a 
more practicable part of the moimtains. It would be an un- 
dertaking extravagant and chimerical, with ordinary means; 
and, therefore, unlooked for by the enemy; but what could 
not kings effect, who had treasures and armies at command? 

The project struck the enterprismg spirit of the queen. Six 
thousand men, with pickaxes, crowbars, and every other nec- 
essary implement, were set to work day and night, to break 
a road through the very centre of the mountains. No time 
was to be lost, for it was rumored that El Zagal was about to 
march \\qth a mighty host to the relief of the castles. The 
bustling bishop of Jaen acted as pioneer, to mark the route 
and superintend the laborers; and the grand cardinal took 
care that the work should never languish through lack of 
means.* 

"When kings' treasures," says Fray Antonio Agapida, "are 
dispensed by priestly hands, there is no stint, as the glorious 
annals of Spain bear witness. " Under the guidance of these 
ghostly men, it seemed as if miracles were effected. Almost 
an entire mountain was levelled, valleys filled up, trees hewn 
down, rocks broken and overturned ; in short, all the obstacles 
which nature had heaped around, entirely and promptly van- 
ished. In little more than twelve days, this gigantic work 
was effected, and the ordnance dragged to the camp, to thej 
grep.t triumph of the Christians and confusion of the Moors, t i 

No sooner was the heavy artillery arrived, than it was! 
mounted, in all haste, upon the neighboring heights; Fran- 
cisco Ramirez de Madrid, the first engineer in Spain, superin- 
tended the batteries, and soon opened a destructive fire upon 
the castles. 

When the valiant alcayde, Mahomet Lentin, found his 

* Zurita, Anales de Aragon, lib. 20, c. 64. Pulgar, part 3, cap. 51. t Idem. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 143 

towers tumbling about him, and his brr.vest men dashed from 
the walls, without the power of inflicting a wound upon the 
foe, liis haughty spirit was greatly exasperated. "Of what 
avail, " said he, bitterly, "is all the prowess of knighthood 
against these cowardly engines, that murder from afar?" 

For a whole day, a tremendous fire kept thundering upon 
the castle of Albaliar. The lombards discharged large stones, 
which demolished two of the towers, and all the battlements 
which guarded the portal. If any Moors attempted to defend 
the walls or repair the breaches, they were shot down by 
ribadoquines, and other small pieces of artillery. The Chris- 
tian soldiery issued forth from the camp, under cover of tliis 
fire ; and, approaching the castles, discharged flights of arrows 
and stones through the openings made by the ordnance. 

At length, to bring the siege to a conclusion, Francisco 
Ramirez elevated some of the heaviest artillery on a mount 
that rose in form of a cone or pyramid, on the side of the 
river near to Albaliar, and commanded both castles. This 
was an operation of gi-eat skill and excessive labor, but it was 
repaid by complete success ; for the Moors did nob dare to wait 
until this terrible battery should discharge its fury. Satisfied 
that all further resistance was vain, the valiant alcayde made 
signal for a parley. The articles of capitulation were soon 
arranged. The alcayde and his garrisons were permitted to 
return in safety to the city of Grana,da, and the castles were 
[ delivered into the possession of king Ferdinand, on the day of 
I the festival of St. Matthew, in the month of September. They 
were immediately repaired, strongly garrisoned, and delivered 
in charge to the city of Jaen. 

The effects of this triumph were immediately apparent. 
Quiet and security once more settled upon the bishopric. The 
husbandmen tilled their fields in peace, the herds and flocks 
fattened unmolested in the pastures, and the \aneyards yielded 
[Corpulent skinsful of rosy wine. The good bishop enjoyed, in 
the gratitude of his people, the approbation of his conscience, 
the increase of his revenues, and the abundance of his table, a 
reward for all his toils and perils. " This glorious victory , '' 
xclaims Fray Antonio Agapida, "achieved by such extraor- 
dinary management and infinite labor, is a shining example of 
what a bishop can effect, for the promotion of the faith and 
lihe good of his diocese." 



144 THE COI^qUEST OF GRANADA. 



OHAPTEE XXXIY. 

EISTERFRISE OF THE KNIGHTS OP CALATRAVA AGAINST ZALEAo 

Yv^niLE these events were taking place on the northern fron- 
tier of the kingdom of Granada, the important fortress of 
Alhania was neglected, and its connnander, Don Gutiere de 
Padilla, clavero of Calatrava, reduced to great perplexity. 
The remnant of the foraging party, which had been surprised 
and massacred by the fierce El Zagal when on his w^ay to 
Granada to receive the crown, had returned in confusion and 
dismay to the fortress. They could only speak of their own 
disgrace, being obhged to abandon their cavalgada, and to fly, 
pursued by a superior force : of the flower of their party, the 
gallant knights of Calatrava, who had remained behind in the 
valley, they knew nothing. A few days cleared up all the 
mystery of their fate : tidings were brought that their bloody 
heads had been borne in triumph into Granada by the fero- 
cious El Zagal. The surviving knights of Calatrava, who 
formed a part of the garrison, burned to revenge the death of 
their comrades, and to wipe out the stigma of this defeat ; but 
the clavero had been rendered cautious by disaster, — ^he re- 
sisted all then* entreaties for a foray. His garrison was weak- 
ened by the loss of so many of its bravest men ; the vega was 
patrolled by numerous and powerful squadrons, sent forth by 
the warlike El Zagal ; above all, the movements of tlie garrison 
were watched by the warriors of Zalea, a strong town, only 
two leagues distant, on the road towards Loxa. This place 
was a continual check upon Alhama when in its most powerful 
state, placing ambuscades to entrap the Christian cavaliers in 
the course of their sallies. Frequent and bloody skirmishes 
had taken place, in consequence ; and the troops of Alhama, 
when returning from their forays, had often to fight their way 
back through the squadrons of Zalea. Thus surrounded by 
dangers, Don Gutiere de Padilla restrained the eagerness of his 
troops for a sally, knowing that any additional disaster* might 
be followed by the loss of Alliama. 

In the meanwhile, provisions began to grow scarce; they 
were unable to forage the country as usual for supplies, and 
depended for relief upon the Oastihan sovereigns. The defeat 



THE COM^UK.^T OF'ailANADA. 145 

of the count de Cabra filled the measure of their perplexities, 
as it interrupted the intended reinforcements and supplies. To 
Bucli extreiiiily were they reduced, that they were compelled 
to kill some of their horses for provisions. 

The worthy clavero, Don Gutiere de Padilla, was ponde?ing 
one day on this gloomy state of affairs, when a Moor was 
brought before him who had surrendered hunself at the gate 
of AJhama, and claimed an audience. Don Gutiere was ac- 
customed to visits of the kind from renegade iMoors, who 
roamed the country as spies and adalides; but the counte- 
nance of this man was quite unknown to him. He had a box 
strapped to his shoulders, containing divers articles of traffic, 
and appeared to be one of those itinerant traders, who often 
resorted to Alliama and the other garrison towns, under pre- 
text of vending trivial mxerchandise, such as amulets, perfumes, 
and trinkets, but who often produced rich shawds, golden 
chains and necklaces, and valuable gems and jewels. 

The Moor requested a private conference with the clavero : 
*' I have a precious jewel," said he, "to dispose of." 

" I want no jewels," repHed Don Gutiere. 

"For the sake of him who died on the cross, the great 
prophet of your faith," said the Moor, solemnly, "refuse not 
my request ; the jewel I sfjeak of you alone can purchase, but 
I can only treat about it in secret." 

Don Gutiere perceived there was something hidden under 
these mystic and figurative terms, in which the Moors were 
often accustomed to talk. He motioned to his attendants to 
retire. When they were alone, the Moor looked cautiously 
round the apartment, and then, approaching close to the 
knight, demanded in a low voice, ' ' What w^U you give me if 
I deliver the fortress of Zalea into your hands?" 

Don Gutiere looked with surprise at the humble individual 
that made such a suggestion. 

" What means have you," said he, " of effecting such a pro- 
position?" 

"I have a brother in the garrison of Zalea," replied the 
Moor, "who, for a proper compensation, would admit a body 
of troops into the citadel." 

Don Gutiere turned a scrutinizing eye upon the Moor. 
" What right have I to believe," said he, "that thou wilt be 
truer to me, than to those of thy blood and thy rehgion?" 
' "I renounce all ties to them, either of blood or rehgion," 
replied the Moor ; ' ' my mother was a Christian captive ; her 



146 TEE CONQUEST OF ORANADA. 

country shall henceforth be my country, and her faith my 
faith."* 

The doubts of Don Gutiere were not dispelled by this profes- 
sion of mongrel Christianity. " Granting the sincerity of thy 
conversion,'' said he, "art thou under no obligations of grati- 
tude or duty to the alcayde of the fortress thou wouldst be- 
tray?" 

The eyes of the Moor flashed fire at the words ; he gnashed 
his teeth with fury. " The alcayde," cried he, " is a dog! He 
has deprived my brother of his just share of booty ; he has 
robbed me of my merchandise, treated me worse than a Jew 
when I mm*mured at his injustice, and ordered me to be thrust 
forth ignominiously from his walls. May the curse of God fall 
upon my head, if I rest content imtil I have full revenge !" 

" Enough," said Don Gutiere: " I trust more to thy revenge 
than thy religion." 

The good clavero called a council of his officers. The 
knights of Calatrava were unanimous for the enterprise— zeal- 
ous to appease the manes of their slaughtered comrades. Don 
Gutiere reminded them of the state of the garrison, enfeebled 
by their late loss, and scarcely sufficient for the defence of the 
walls. The cavaliers rephed that there was no achievement 
without risk, and that there would have been no great actions 
recorded in history, had there not been daring spirits ready to 
peril life to gain renown. 

Don Gutiere yielded to the wishes of his knights, for to have 
resisted any further might have drawn on him the imputation 
of timidity : he ascertained by trusty spies that every thing in 
Zalea remained in the usual state, and he made all the requisite 
arrangements for the attack. 

When the appointed night arrived, all the cavaliers were 
anxious to engage in the enterprise ; but the individuals were 
decided by lot. They set out, under the guidance of the Moor ; 
and when they arrived in the vicinity of Zalea, they bound his 
hands behind his back, and their leader pledged his knightly 
word to strike him dead on the first sign of treachery. He 
then bade him to lead the way. 

It was near midnight, when they reached the walls of the 
fortress. They passed silently along until they found them- 
selves below the citadel. Here their guide made a low and 
preconcerted signal : it was answered from above, and a cord 

* Cura de los Palacios. 



TllK CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 1^7 

let down from the wall. The knights attached to it a ladder, 
which was drawn up and fastened. Gutiere Mufioz was the 
first that mounted, followed l)y Pt^lro de Alvanado. both brave 
and hard}' soldiers. A handful succeeded ; they were attacked 
by a party of guards, bnt held them at bay until more of their 
comrades ascended ; with their assistance, they gained posses- 
sion of a tower and part of the wall. The garrison, by this 
time, was aroused ; but before they could reach the scene of 
action, most of the cavaliers were within the battlements. A 
bloody contest raged for about an hour— several of the Chris- 
tians were slain, but many of the Moors ; at length the whole 
citadel was carried, and the town submitted without resist- 
ance. 

Thus did the gallant knights of Calatrava gain the strong 
town of Zalea with scarcely any loss, and atone for the inglori- 
ous defeat of their companions by El Zagal. They found the 
magazines of the place well stored with provisions, and were 
enabled to carry a seasonable supply to their own famishing 
garrison. 

The tidings of this event reached the sovereigns, just after 
the surrender of Cambil and Albahar. They were greatly re- 
joiced at this additional success of their arms, and immediately 
sent strong reinforcements and ample supplies for both Alha- 
ma and Zalea. They then dismissed the army for the winter. 
Ferdinand and Isabella retired to Alcala de Henares, where 
the queen, on the 16th of December, 1485, gave birth to the 
princess Catharine, afterwards wife of Henry VIII. of Eng- 
land. Thus prosperously terminated the checkered campaign 
of this important year. 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

DEATH OP MULEY ABEN HASSAN. 

' MULEY Abd ALLAH El Zagal had been received with great 
acclamations at Granada, on his return from defeating the 
count de Cabra. He had endeavored to turn his victory to the 
gi-eatest advantage, with his subjects ; giving tilts and tour- 
naments, and other public festivities, in which the i\Ioors de- 
lighted. The loss of the castles of Cambil and Albahar, and 
of the fortress of Zalea, however, checked this sudden tide of 



148 2'^^^' CONQUEST OF O RAN AD A. 

popularity; and some of the fickle populace began to doubt 
\Yliether they had not been rather precipitate in deposing his ; 
brother, Muley Aben Hassan. ' 

That superannuated monarch remained in his faithful town j 
of Almunccar, on the border of the Mediterranean, surrounded 
by a few adherents, together with his wife Zorayna and his 
children ; and he had all his treasures safe in his possession. 
The fiery heart of the old king was almost burnt out, and all ! 
his powers of doing either harm or good seemed at an end. 

While in this passive and helpless state, his brother El Zagal 
manifested a sudden anxiety for his health. He had him re- 
moved, with all tenderness and care, to Salobrena, another \ 
fortress on the Mediterranean coast, famous for its pure and ■ 
salubrious air ; and the alcay de, who was a devoted adherent 
of El Zagal, was charged to have especial care that nothing : 
was wanting to the comfort and solace of his brother. 

Salobrena was a small town, situated on a lofty and rocky 
hill, in the midst of a beautiful and fertile vega, shut up on j 
three sides by mountains, and opening on the fourth to the ; 
Mediterranean. It was protected by strong walls and a power- ! 
ful castle, and, being deemed impregnable, was often used by 1 
the Moorish kings as a place of deposit for theu' treasures, j 
They were accustomed also to assign it as a residence for such j 
of their sons and brothers as might enda^nger the security of ] 
theu' reign. Here the princes lived, in luxurious repose : they I 
had dehcious gardens, perfumed baths, a harem of beauties at | 
their command— notliing was denied them but the liberty to \ 
depart ; that alone was wanting to render this abode an earthly | 
paradise. 

Such was the dehghtful place appointed by El Zagal for the 
residence of his brother; but, notwithstandmg its wonderlul j 
salubrity, the old monarch had not been removed thither 
many days before he expired. There was nothing extraordi- 
nary in his death : life with hun had long been glimmering in 
the socket, and for some time past he might rather have been 
numbered with the dead than with the living. The public, 
however, are fond of seeing tilings in a sinister and mysterious 
point of view, and there were many dark surmises as to the 
caus-e of this event. El ZagpJ acted in a manner to heighten 
these suspicions: he caused the treasures of his deceased 
brother to be packed on mules and brought to Granadsi, where 
he took possession of them, to the exclusion of the children of 
Aben Hassan. The sidtana Zorayna and her two sons were 



TIU<J coy QUEST OF GllAyADA. I49 

lodged in the Alhambra, iii the tower of Cimares. This was 
a residence in a palace -but it had proved a royal prison to the 
sultana Ayxa la Horra, and her yeuthfLil son Boabdil. There 
the unhappy Zorayna had time to meditate upon the dis- 
appointment of all those ambitious schemes for herself and 
children, for which she had stained her conscience with so 
many crhnes, and induced her cruel husband to imbrue his 
hands in the blood of his other olfsi)ring. 

The corpse of old Muley Aben Hassan was also brought to 
Granada, not in a state becoming the remains of a once power- 
ful sovereign, but transported on a mule, like the corpse of the 
poorest peasant. It received no honor or cereuDnial from El 
Zagal, and appears to have been interred obscurely, to prevent 
any popular sensation; and it is recorded by an ancient and 
faithful chronicler of the time, that the body of the old mon^ 
arch was deposited by two Christian captives in his osario, 01 
charnel-house.* Such was the end of the turbulent Muley 
Aben Hassan, who, after passing his life in constant contests 
for empire, could scarce gain quiet admission into the corner 
of a sepulchre. 

No sooner were the populace well assured that old Muley 
Aben Hassan was dead, and beyond recovery, than they all 
began to extol his memory and deplore his loss. They ad- 
mitted that he had been fierce and cruel, but then he hau 
been brave; he had, to be sure, pulled this Avar upon their 
heads, but he had likewise been crushed by it. In a word, he 
ivas dead ; and his death atoned for every fault ; for a king, 
recently dead, is generally either a hero or a saint. 

In proportion as they ceased to hate old Muley Aben Hassan, 
bhey began to hate his brother El Zagal. The circumstances 
Df the old king's death, the eagerness to appropriate his trea- 
jures, the scandalous neglect of his corpse, and tlie imprison- 
nent of his sultana and children, all filled the pubhc mind 
^th gloomy suspicions; and the epithet of Fratracide! v.-aa 
Sometimes substituted for that of El Zagal, in the low mur- 
jQurings of the people. 

As the public must always have some object to like as well 
IS to hate, there began once more to be an inquiry after their 
Ugitive king, Boabdil el Chico. That unfortunate monaich 
vas still at Cordova, existing on the cool courtesy and meagre 
riendship of Ferdinand; which had waned exceedingly, ever 



Cura de los Palacios, c. 77 



150 THE CONQUEST OF QRANABA. 

since Boabdil had ceased to have any influence in his late 
dominions. The reviving interest expressed in his fate by the 
Moorisli piibhc, and certain secret overtures made to him, once 
more aroused the sympathy of Ferdinand: he immediately 
advised Boabdil again to set up his standard within the fron- 
tiers of Granada, and furnished him with money and means 
for the purpose. Boabdil advanced but a little way into his 
la.te tei-ritories ; he took up his post at Velez el Blanco, a 
strong town on the confines of Murcia; there he established 
the shadow of a court, and stood, as it were, with one foot 
over the border, and ready to draw that back upon the least 
alarm. His presence in the kingdom, however, and his as- 
sumption of royal state, gave life to his faction in Granada. 
The inhabitants of the Albaycin, the poorest but most warlike 
part of the populace, were generally in his favor: the more 
rich, courtly, and aristocratical inhabitants of the quarter o^' 
the Alhambra, ralhed round what appeared to be the most 
stable authority, and supported the throne of El Zagal. So it 
is, in the admirable order of sublunary affairs: every thing, 
seeks its kind ; the rich befriend the rich, the powerful stand 
by the powerful, the poor enjoy the patronage of the poor— 
and thus a universal harmony prevails. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

OF THE CHRISTIAN ARMY WHICH ASSEMBLED AT THE CITY OF 

CORDOVA. 

Great and glorious was the style with which the Cathohc 
sovereigns opened another year's campaign of this eventful 
war. It was like commencing another act of a stately and 
heroic drama, where the curtain rises to the inspiring sound 
of martial melody, and the whole stage glitters with the array 
of warriors and the pomp of arms. The ancient city of Cor- 
dova was the place appointed by the sovereigns for the assem- 
blage of the troops ; and early in the spring of 1486, the fair 
valley of the Guadalquivir resounded with the shrill blast of 
trumpet, and the imj)atient neighing of the war-horse. In this 
splendid era of Spanish chivalry, there was a rivalship among 
the nobles who most should distinguish himself by the splen- 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. ]51 

dor of his appearance, and the number and equipments of his 
feudal followers. Every day beheld some cavalier of note, the 
representative of some proud and powerful house, entering 
I the gates of Cordova with sound of trumpet, and displaying 
his banner and device, renowned in many a contest. He 
would appear in sumptuous array, surrounded by pages and 
lackeys no less gorgeously attired, and followed by a host of 
vassals and retainers, horse and foot, all admirably equipped 
in burnished armor. 

Such was the state of Don Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, duke of 
Inf antado ; who may be cited as a picture of a warlike noble of 
those times. He brought with him five hundred men-at-arms 
of his household, armed and mounted a la gineta and d la 
guisa. The cavaliers who attended him were magnificently 
armed and dressed. The housings of fifty of his horses were 
of rich cloth, embroidered with gold; and others were of bro- 
cade. The sumpter mules had housings of the same, with hal- 
ters of silk ; while the bridles, head-pieces, and all the harness- 
ing glittered with silver. 

The camp equipage of these noble and luxurious warriors was 
equally magnificent. Their tents were gay pavilions, of vari- 
ous colors, fitted up with silken hangings and decorated with 
fluttering pennons. They had vessels of gold and silver for the 
Iservice of their tables, as if they were about to engage in a 
Course of stately feasts and courtly revels, instead of the stern 
encounters of rugged and mountainous warfare. Sometimes 
they passed through the streets of Cordova at night, in splen- 
did cavalcade, with great numbers of lighted torches, the rays 
of which falling upon pohshed armor and nodding plumes, and 
silken scarfs, and trappings of golden embroidery, filled all 
beholders with admiration. * 

But it was not the chivalry of Spain alone which thronged 
the streets of Cordova. The fame of this war had spread 
throughout Christendom : it was considered a kind of crusade ; 
a,nd Catholic knights from all parts hastened to signalize tliem- 
ielves in so holy a cause. There were several valiant cheva- 
iers from France, among whom the most distinguished was 
j-aston du Leon, Seneschal of Toulouse. With him came a 
pliant train, well armed and mounted, and decorated with 
[ich surtouts and panaches of feathers. These cavaliers, it is 
said, eclipsed all others in the light festivities of the court: 

* Pulirar. uart3. cau. 41. 56. 



152 THE CONQUEST OF GBANABA. 

tlicy were devoted to the fair, but not after the solemn and 
passionate manner of the Spanish lovers ; they were gay, gal- 
lant, and joyous in their amours, and captivated by the vivacity 
of their attacks. They were at first held in light estimation by 
the grave and stately Spanish knights, until they made them- 
selves to be respected by their wonderful provs^ess in the field. 

The most conspicuous of the volunteers, however, who ap- 
peared in Cordova on this occasion, was an English knight 
of royal connection. This was the lord Scales, earl of Rivers, 
brother to the queen of England, v/ife of Henry VII. He had 
distinguished himself in the preceding year, at the battle of 
Bosworth field, where Henry Tudor, then earl of Richmond, 
overcame Richard III. That decisive battle having left the 
country at peace, the earl of Rivers, having conceived a pas- 
sion for warlike scenes, repaired to the Castihan court, to keep 
his arms in exercise, in a campaign against the Moors. He "! 
brought Avith him a hundred archers, all dexterous with the 
long-bow and the cloth-yard arrow; also two hundred yeoman, 
armed cap-a-pie, who 'fought with pike and battle-axe,— men 
robust of frame, and of prodigious strength. The worthy 
padre Fray Antonio Agapida describes this stranger knight 
and his followers, with his accustomed accuracy and minute- 
ness. 

"This cavalier," he observes, "was from the far island oi' 
England, and brought with him a train of his vassals ; men who 
had been hardened in certain civil wars which raged in their 
country. They were a comely race of men, but too fair and. 
fresh for warriors, not having the sun-burnt warlike hue of. I 
our old Castilian soldiery. They were huge feeders also, and 
deep carouscrs, and could not accommodate themselves tc the 
sober diet of our troops, but must fain eat and drink after the 
manner of their own country. They were often noisy and 
unruly, also, in their wassail ; and their quarter of the camp 
was prone to be a scene of loud revel and sudden brawl. They ''\ 
were, withal, of great pride, yet it was not hke our infiamma- j 
ble Spanish pride ; they stood not much upon thQ piindonor, } 
the high punctilio, and rarely drew the stiletto in their dis- ; 
putes ; but their pride was silent and contumeKous. Though ' 
from a remote and somewhat barbarous island, they beheved 
themselves the most perfect men upon earth, and magnified 
their chieftain, the lord Scales, beyond the greatest of their 
grandees. With all this, it must be said of them that they 
were marvellous good men in the field, dexterous archers, and 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 1^3 

powerful with the battle-axe. In their great pride 'and self- 
will, they always sought to press in the advance and take the 
post of danger, trying to outvie our Spanish chivalry. They 
did not rush on fiercely to the fight, nor make a brilliant onset 
like the Moorish and Spanish troops, but they went into the 
fight deliberately and persisted obstinately, and Avere slow to 
find out when they were beaten. Withal they were much 
esteemed, yet little liked by our soldiery, who considered them 
staunch companions in the field, but coveted little fellowship 
witli them in the camp. 

"Tiieir commander, the lord Scales, was an accomplished 
cavalier, of gracious and noble presence and fair speech; it 
was a marvel to see so much courtesy in a knight brought up 
so far from our Castilian court. He was much honored by the 
king and queen, and foimd great favor with the fair dames 
about the court, who indeed are rather prone to be pleased with 
foreign cavaliers. He went always in costly state, attended 
by pages and esquires, and accompanied by noble young cava- 
liers of his country, who had enrolled themselves under his 
banner, to learn the gentle exercise of arms. In all pageants 
and festivals, the eyes of the populace were attracted hj the 
singular bearing and rich array of the English earl and his 
train, who prided themselves in always appearing in the garb 
and manner of their country — and -were indeed something very 
[magnificent, delectable, and strange to behold." 

The worthy chronicler is no less elaborate in his description 
of the Masters of Santiago, Calatrava, and Alcantara, and 
their valiant knights, armed at ail points, and decorated with 
the badges of their orders. These, he affirms, Avere the flower 
of Christian chivalry: being constantly in sei-^ice, they 
became more steadfast and accomplished in discipline, than 
the irregular and temporary levies of the feudal nobles. Calm, 
lolemn, and stately, they sat like towers upon their powerfid 
Chargers. On parades, they manifested none of the show and 
ostentation of the other troops: neither, in battle, did tliey 
endeavor to signalize themselves by any fiery vivacity, or des- 
perate and vain-glorious exploit — every thing, with them, was 
measured and sedate ; yet it was observed that none were more 
warlike in their appearance in the camp, or more terrible for 
bheir achievements in the field. 

The gorgeous magnificence of the Spanish nobles found but 
ttle favor in the eyes of the sovereigns. They saw that it 
saused a competition in expense, ruinous to cavaliers of 



154 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

moderate fortune; and they feared that a softness and effemi- 
nacy might thus be introduced, incompatible with the stern 
nature of the war. They signified their disapprobation to 
several of the principal noblemen, and recommended a more 
sober and soidicrhke display while in actual service. 

"These are rare troops for a tourney, my lord," said Ferdi- 
nand to the duke of Infantado, as he beheld liis retainers 
glittering in gold and embroidery; "but gold, though gor- 
geous, is soft and yielding: iron is the metal for the field." 

"Sire," replied the duke, "if my men parade in gold, your 
majesty will find they fight with steel." The king smiled, but 
shook liis head, and the duke treasured up his speech in his 
heart. 

It remains now to reveal the immediate object of this mighty 
and chivalrous preparation ; which had, in fact, the gratifica- 
tion of a royal pique at bottom. The severe lesson which 
Ferdinand had received from the veteran Ali Atar, before the 
walls of Loxa, though it had been of great service in rendering 
him wary in his attacks upon fortified places, yet rankled 
sorely in his mind; and he had ever since held Loxa in 
peculiar odium. It was, in truth, one of the most belligerent 
and troublesome cities on the borders; incessantly harassing 
Andalusia by its incursions. It also intervened between the 
Christian territories and Alhama, and other important places 
gained in the kingdom of Granada. For all these reasons, 
king Ferdinand had determined to make another grand 
attempt upon this warrior city; and for this purpose, he 
had summoned to the field his most powerful chivalry. 

It was in the month of May, that the king saUied from 
Cordova, at the head of his army. He had twelve thousand 
cavalry and forty thousand foot-soldiers, armed with cross- 
bows, lances, and arquebusses. There were six thousand 
pioneers, with hatchets, pickaxes, and crowbars, for level- 
ling roads. He took wdth him, also, a great train of lombards 
and other heavy artillery, with a body of Germans skilled in 
the service of ordnance and the art of battering walls. 

It was a glorious spectacle (says Fray Antonio Agapida) to 
behold this pompous pageant issuing forth from Cordova, the 
pennons and devices of the proudest houses of Spain, with 
those of gallant stranger knights, fluttering above a sea of 
crests and plumes; to see it slowly moving, with flash of 
helm, and cuirass, and buckler, across the ancient bridge, 
and reflected in the waters of the Guadalquivir, while the 



niE CONQUEST OF GllANADA. 15./) 

neigh of steed and blast of ti-umixit vibmted in the air, and 
resounded to the distiint mountains. "But, above all,'' con- 
cludes the good father, with his accustomed zeaJ, "it wa,s 
triumphant to behold the standard of the faith every where 
displayed, and to reflect that this was no worJdly-miuded 
army, intent upon some temiKiml s<jheme of ambition or 
irevenge; but a Christian host, bound on a crusade t^o extir- 
Ipate the vile seed of Mahomet fi-om the land, and to extend 
jthe pure dominion of the church." 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

pOW FRESH C0M3I0TI0NS BROKE OUT IN GRANADA, AND HOW 
\ THE PEOPLE UNDERTOOK TO ALLAi" THEM. 

j While perfect unity of object and harmony of operation 
^ve powder to the Christian arms, the devoted kingdom of 
aranada contmued a prey to internal feuds. The transient 
popularity of EI Zagal had declined ever since the death of 
lis brother, and the party of Boabdil el Chico w^as daily 
gaining strength: the Albaycin and the Alhambra were 
igrrin arraj^ed against each other i7i deadly strife, and the 
tr-ets of unhappy Granada were daily dyed in the blood 
•r YiQv children. In the midst of these dissensions, tidings 
nived of the formidable army assembling at Cordova. The 
\y\\ factions paused in tlieir infatuated brawls, and w-ere 
o'l^ed to a temporary sense of the connnon danger. They 
wrtliwith resort(^d to their old expedient of new-modelling 
h< r government, or rather of making and unmaking kings. 
'hQ elevation of El Zagal to the throne had not produced 
he desired effect -what then was to be done ? Recall Boabdil 
1 Chico, and acknowledge him again as sovereign ? While 
ley were in a popular tumult of deliberation, Hamet Aben 
ar]'ax, surnamed El Santo, arose among them. This was the 
ime wild, melancholy man, who had predicted the woes of 
ranada. He issued from one of the caverns of the adjacent 
-Mght which overhangs the Darro, and has since been caUed 
le Holy Mountain. His appearance was more haggard than 
•or; for the unheeded spirit of prophecy seemed to have 
irned inwardly, and preyed upon his vitals. "Beware, O 



ir^Q THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

Moslems," exclaimed li9, "of men who are eager to govern, 
yet are imabie to protect. Why slaughter each other for M 
Chico or El Zagal? Let your kings renounce their contests, 
unite for the salvation of Granada, or let them be deposed." 

Hamet Aben Zarrax had long been revered as a saint — he 
was now considered an oracle. The old men and the nobles 
immediately consulted together, how the two rival kings 
might be brought to accord. They had tried most expe- 
dients : it was now determined to divide the kingdom between 
them; giving Granada, Malaga, Yelez Malaga, Almeria, Almu- 
necar, and their dependencies, to El Zagal— and the residue to| 
Boabdil el Chico. Among the cities granted to the latter, 
Loxa was particularly specified, with a condition that he 
should immediately take command of it in person; for the! 
council thought the favor he enjoyed with the Castihan mon-i 
archs might avert the threatened attack. 

El Zagal readily acceded to this arrangement ; he had beenj 
hastily elevated to the throne by an ebullition of the people, 
and might be as hastily cast down again. It secured him one- 
haK of a kingdom to which he had no hereditary right, and he 
trusted to force or fraud to gain the other half hereafter. Thej 
wily old monarch even sent a deputation to his nephew, maki 
ing a merit of offering him cheerfully the haK which he had; 
thus been compelled to relinquish, and inviting him to enteii 
into an amicable coalition for the good of the country. 

The heart of Boabdil shrunk from all connection with s 
man who had sought his life, and whom he regarded as the 
murderer of his kindred. He accepted one-half of the king; 
dom as an offer from the nation, not' to be rejected by a princd 
who scarcely held possession of the ground he stood on, H(; 
asserted, nevertheless, his absolute right to the whole, anc'j 
only submitted to the partition out of anxiety for the present 
good of his people. He assembled his handfid of adherents 
and prepared to hasten to Loxa. As he mounted his horse t(; 
depart, Hamet Aben Zarrax stood suddenly before him. "^(i 
true to thy country and thy faith," cried he: "hold no furthejl 
communication with these Christian dogs. Trust not th<| 
hollow-hearted friendship of the Castilian king; he is mininir 
the earth beneath thy feet. Choose one of two things; be t'^ 
sovereign or a slave— thou canst not be both." 

Boabdil ruminated on these words; he made many wis^ 
resolutions, but he Avas prone always to act from the impuls« 
of the moment, and was unfortunately given to temporize ii 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. . 157 

his policy. He wrote to Ferdinand, informing him that Loxa 
and certain other cities had returned to their allegiance, and 
that he held them as vassal to the Castilian crown, according 
to their convention. He conjured him, therefore, to refrain 
from any meditated attac^k, offering free passage to the Span- 
ish army to Malaga, or any other place under the dominion of 
his uncle.* 

Ferdinand turned a deaf ear to the entreaty, and to all pro- 
fessions of friendship and vassalage. Boabdil was nothing to 
him, but as an instrmnent for stirring up the flames of civil 
war. He now insisted that he had entered into a hostile 
league with his uncle, and had consequently forfeited all 
claims to his indulgence ; and he prosecuted, with the greater 
earnestness, his campaign against the city of Loxa. 

"Thus," observes the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida, "thus 
did this most sagacious sovereign act upon the text in the 
eleventh chapter of the Evangelist St. Luke, that ' a kingdom 
divided against itself cannot stand.' He had induced these in- 
fidels to waste and destroy themselves by internal dissensions, 
and finally cast forth the survivor; while the Moorish mon- 
arclis, by their ruinous contests, made good the old Castilian 
proverb in cases of civil war, ' El vencido vencido, y el venci- 
dor perdido, ' (the conquered conquered, and the conqueror im 
done.)"t 



I 



CHAPTER XXXVni. 



HOW KING FERDINAND HELD A COUNCIL OF WAR, AT THE ROCK 
OF THE LOVERS. 

I The royal army, on its march against Loxa, lay encamped, 
j one pleasant evening in May, in a meadow on the banks of the 
; river Yeguas, around the foot of a lofty cliff called the Rock of 
\ the Lovers. The quarters of each nobleman formed as it were 
I a separate little encampment; his stately pavilion, surmount- 
ed by his fluttering pennon, rising above the surrounding tents 
of his vassals and retainers. A little apart from the others, as 
' it were in proud reserve, was the encampment of the English 
earl. It was sumptuous in its furniture, and complete in all 

' * Zuiita, lib. 20, c. 68. t Garibav. lib. '10, o. 33. 



158 THE CONQUEST OF QRANADA. 

its munitions. Archers, and soldiers armed with battle-axes, 
kept guard around it; while above, the standard of England 
rolled out its ample folds, and flapped in the evening breeze. 

The mingled sounds of various tongues and nations were 
heard from the soldiery, as they watered their horses in the 
s-tream, or busied themselves round the fires which began to 
glow, here and there, in the twilight : the gay chanson of the 
Frenchman, singmg of his amours on the loleasant banks of 
the Loire, or the sunny regions of the Garonne ; the broad gut- , 
tural tones of the German, chanting some doughty hrieger lied, \ 
or extolhng the vintage of the Rhine ; the wild romance of the ' 
Spaniard, reciting the achievements of the Cid, and many a 
famous passage of the Moorish wars ; and the long and melan- 
choly ditty of the Englishman, treating of some feudal hero or | 
redoubta^ble outlaw of his distant island. \ 

On a rising ground, commanding a view of the whole en- 
campment, stood the ample and magnificent pavihon of the | 
king, with the banner of Castile and Arragon, and the holy \ 
standard of the cross, erected before it. In this tent were as- I 
sembled the principal commanders of the army, having been 
summoned by Ferdinand to a council of war, on receiving ; 
tidings that Boabdil had thrown liimself into Loxa with a con- \ 
siderable reinforcement. After some consultation, it was de- j 
termined to invest Loxa on both sides : one part of the army { 
should seize upon the dangerous but commanding height of ' 
Santo Albohacen, in front of the city ; while the remainder, 
making a circuit, should encamp on the opposite side. i 

No sooner was this resolved upon, than the marques of ! 
Cadiz stood forth and claimed the post of danger in behalf of j 
himself and those cavaliers, his companions in arms, who had ] 
been compelled to rehnquish it by the general I'etreat of the i 
army on the former siege. The enemy had exulted over 
them, as if driven from it in disgrace. To regain that perilous 
height, to pitch their tents upon it, and to avenge the blood of ,, 
their valiant compeer, the Master of Calatrava, who had fallen j 
upon it, was due to their fame; the marques demanded there- ■ 
fore that they might lead the advance and secure that height, 
engaging to hold the enemy employed until the main army ;j 
should take its position on the opposite side of the city. I 

King Ferdinand readily granted his permission ; upon which : 
the count de Cabra entreated to be admitted to a share of the 
enterprise. He bad alvsrays been accustomed to serve in the 
advance ; and now that Boabdil was in the field, and a king 



TIIK CONQUEST OF GRAiXADA. 159 

was to be taken, he could not content liinisolf with remaining 
in the rear. Ferdinand yielded his consent, for he Avas dis- 
posed to give the good count every opportunity to retrieve his 
late disaster. 

The English earl, when he heard there Avas an enterprise of 
dimger in question, Avas hot to be admitted to the party ; but 
the king restrained his ardor. "These cavaliers," said he, 
" conceive that they have an account to settle Avith their pride; 
let Ihem have the enterprise to themselves, my lord; if you 
folloAv these Moorish Avars long, you avlU find no lack of pei-il- 
ous serArice." 

The marques of Cadiz, and his companions in a^-ms, struck 
their tents before daybreak; they Avere five thousand horse 
and tAvelve thousand foot, and marched rapidly along the de- 
files of the mountains; the cavaliers being anxious to strike 
the blow, and get possession of the height of Albohacen, be- 
foi-e the king Avith the main army should arrive to their assis- 
tance. 

The city of Loxa stands on a liigh hill, betAveen tAvo moun- 
tains, on the banks of the Xenel. To attain the height of Al- 
bohacen, the troops had to pass over a tract of rugged and 
broken country, and a deep valley, intersected by those canals 
and water-courses AAith A\'hich the ^Moors irrigated their lands : 
they were extremely embarrassed in this part of their march, 
and in imminent risk of being cut up in detail before they 
30uld reach the height. 

The count de Cabra, with his usual eagerness, endeavored to 
push across this valley, in defiance of every obstacle : he, in 
onsequence, soon became entangled Avith his caA^alry among 
;he canals ; but his impatience Avould not permit him to retrace 
lis steps and choose a more practicable but circuitous route. 
L)thers sloAvly crossed another part of the valley, by the aid of 
pontoons; while the marques of Cadiz, Don AJonzo de Aguilar, 
nd the count de Urefia, being more experienced in the ground 
!rom their former champaign, made a circuit round the bottom 
f the height, and, Avinding up it, began to display their squar 
'Tons and elevate their banners on the redoubtable post. 
^hich, in the former siege, they had beea compelled so relu«« 
mtly to abandon. 



160 TUE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 



CH XXXIX. 

HOW THE ROYAL ARMY APPEARED BEFORE THE CITY OF LOXA, 
AND HOW IT WAS RECEIVED ; AND OF THE DOUGHTY ACKIEVE' 
MENTS OF THE ENGLISH EARL. 

The advance of the Cliristian army upon Loxa, threw the 
wavering Boabdil el Chico into one of his usual dilemmas ; and 
he was greatly perplexed between his oath of allegiance to 
the Spanish sovereigns, and his sense of duty to his subjects. 
His doubts were determined by the sight of the enemy glitter- 
ing upon the height of Albohacen, and by the clamors of the 
people to be led forth to battle. "Allah!" exclaimed he, 
' ' thou knowest my heart : thou knowest I have been true in 
my faith to this Christian monarch. I have offered to hold 
Loxa as his vassal, but he has preferred to approach it as an 
enemy— on his head be the infraction of our treaty !" 

Boabdil was not wanting in courage ; he only needed deci- 
sion. When he had once made up Ms mind, he acted vigor- 
ously ; the misfortune was, he either did not make it up at all, 
or he made it up too late. He who decides tardily generally 
acts rashly, endeavoring to make up by hurry of action for 
slowness of deliberation. Boabdil hastily buckled on his 
armor, and sallied forth, surrounded by his guards, and at the 
head of five hundred horse and four thousand foot, the flower 
of his army. Some he detached to skirmish with the Chris- 
tians V'ho were scattered and perplexed in the valley, and to 
prevent their concentrating their forces ; while, with his main 
body, he pressed forward to drive the enemy from the height 
of Albohacen, before they had time to collect there in any 
number, or to fortify themselves in that important position. 

The worthy count de Cabra was yet entangled with his 
cavalry among the water-courses of the valley, when he heard 
the war-cries of the Moors, and saw their army rushing over 
the bridge. He recognized Boabdil himself, by his splendid 
armor, the magnificent caparison of his steed, and the brilliant 
guard which surrounded him. The royal host swept on to- 
ward the height of Albohacen : an intervening hill hid it from 
his sight; but loud shouts and cries, the din of drums and 
trumpets, and the reports of arquebusses, gave note that the 
battle had begun. 



THE CONQUEST OF CHAN ADA. Id 

Here was a royal prize in the field, and the count de Cabra 
unable to get into the action ! The good cavalier was in an 
agony of inipatienca; every attempt to force his way across 
the valley, only plunged him into new difficulties. At length, 
after many eager but ineffectual efforts, he was obliged to 
order his troops to dismount, and slowly and carefully to lead 
their horses back, along shppery paths, and amid plashes of 
mire and water, where often there was scarce a foothold. The 
good count groaned in spirit, and sweat with mere impatience 
as he went, fearing the battle might be fought, and the prize 
won or lost, before he could reach the field. Having at length 
toilfully unravelled the mazes of the valley, and arrived at 
firmer ground, he ordered his troops to mount, and led them 
full gallop to the height. Part of the good count's mshes were 
satisfied, but the dearest were disappointed : he came in season 
to partake of the very hottest of the fight, but the royal prize 
was no longer in the field. 

Boabdil had led on his men with impetuous valor, or rather 
with hurried rashness. Heedlessly exposing himself in the 
front of the battle, he received two wounds in the very fii'st 
encounter. His guards rallied round liim, defended him ^vith 
matchless valor, and bore him, bleeding, out of the action. 
The count de Cabi*a arrived just in time to see the loyal squa- 
.dron crossing the bridge, and slowly conveying their disabled 
monarch towards the gate of the city. 

The departure of Boabdil made no difference in the fury of 
the battle. A Moorish warrior, dark and terrible in aspect, 
mounted on a black charger and followed by a band of savage 
Gomeres, rushed forward to take the lead. It was Hamet el 
Zegri, the fierce alcayde of Ronda, with the remnant of hia 
once redoubtable garrison. Animated by his example, the 
Moors renewed their assaults upon the height. It was bravely 
defended, on one side by the marques of Cadiz, on another by 
Don Alonzo de Aguiiar; and as fast as the Moors ascended, 
they were driven back and dashed down the declivities. The 
count de Urefia took his stand upon the fatal spot where his 
brother had fallen; his followers entered with zeal into the 
feelings of their commander, and heaps of the enemy sunk 
beneath their weapons— sacrifices to the manes of the lamented 
Master of Calatrava. 

The battle continued with incredible obstinacy. The Moors 
knew the importance of the height to the safety of the city ; 
the cavaliers felt tlieir honors staJied to maintain it. Fresh 



102 T^^ CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

supplies of troops were poured out of the city ; some battled on 
the height, while some attacked the Christians who were still 
in the valley and among the orchards and gardens, to prevent 
then' uniting their forces. The troops in the valley were 
gradually driven back, and the whole host of the Moors swept 
around the height of Albohacen. The situation of the marques 
de Cadiz and his companions was perilous in the extreme: 
they were a mere herndf ul ; and, while they were fighting hand 
to hand with the Moors who assailed the height, they were 
galled from a distance by the cross-bows and arquebusses of a 
host that augmented each moment in nmnber. At this critical 
juncture, king Ferdinand emerged from the mountains with 
the main body of the army, and advanced to an eminence com- 
manding a full view of the field of action. By his side was the 
noble English cavaher, the earl of Eivers. This was the first 
time he had witnessed a scene of Moorish warfare. He looked 
with eager interest at the chance medley fight before him, 
where there was the wild career of cavalry, the irregular and 
tumultuous rush of infantry, and where Christian helm and 
Moorish turban were intermingled in deadly struggle. The 
high blood of the EngHsh knight mounted at the sight, and his 
soul was stirred witliin him, by the confused war-cries, the 
clangor of drums and trumpets, and the reports of arquebusses, 
that came echoing up the mountains. Seeing that the king 
was sending a reinforcement to the field, he entreated permis- 
sion to mingle in the affray, and fight according to the fashion 
of his country. His request being granted, he ahghted from 
his steed : he was merely armed en bianco, that is to say, with 
morion, back-piece, and breast-plate ; his sword was girded by 
his side, and in his hand he wielded a powerful battle-axe. He 
was followed by a body of his yeomen, armed in Hke manner, 
and by a band of archers with bows made of the tough English 
yew-tree. The earl turned to his troops, and addressed them 
briefly and blinitly, according to the manner of his country. 
"Eemember, my merry men ail," said he, "the eyes of 
strangers are upon you ; you are in a foreign land, fighting for 
the glory of God, and the honor of merry old England !" A 
loud shout was the reply. The earl waved his battle-axe over 
his head: "St. George for England!" cried he; and to the in- 
spiring sound of this old Enghsh war-cry, he and his followers 
rushed down to the battle with manly and courageous heart.* 

* Cura de los Palacios. 



THE CONQUEST OF Gil AN AD A. IGli 

Tliey soon made their way into the midst of the enemy ; but 
wlion engaged in the hottest of the fight, they made no shouts 
or outcries. They pressed steadily forward, dealing their 
blows to right and left, heaving down the Moors, and cutting 
their way, with their battle-axes, like woodmen m a forest; 
while the archers, pressing into the opening they made, phed 
their bows vigorously, and spread death on every side. 

When the Castilian mountaineers beheld the valor of the 
English yeomanry, they would not be outdone in hardihood. 
They could not vie with them in weight or bulk, but for vigor 
and activity they were surpassed by none. They kept pace 
with them, therefore, with equal heart and rival prowess, and 
gave a brave support to the stout Englishmen. 

The Moors were confounded by the fury of these assaults, 
and disheartened by the loss of Hemet el Zegri, who was car- 
ried wounded from the field. They gi^adually fell back upon 
the bridge; the Christians followed up their advantage, and 
drove them over it tumultuously. The Moors retreated into 
the suburb ; and lord Rivers and his troops entered with them 
pell-mell, fighting in the streets and in the houses. King Fer- 
dinand came up to the scene of action with his royal guard, 
and the infidels were driven within the city walls. Thus were 
the suburbs gained by the hardihood of the EngHsh lord, with- 
out such an event having been premeditated.* 

The carl of Rivers, notwithstanding he had received a 
wound, still urged forward in the attack. He penetrated 
almost to the city gate, in defiance of a shower of missiles 
that slew many of his followers. A stone, hurled from the 
battlements, checked his impetuous career: it struck him in 
the face, dashed out two of his front teeth, and laid him sense- 
less on the earth. He was removed to a short distance by his 
men ; but, recovering his senses, refused to jpermit himself to 
be taken from the suburb. 

When the contest was over, the streets presented a piteous 
spectacle — so many of their inhabitants had died in the de- 
fence of their thresholds, or been slaughtered without resist- 
ance. Among the victims was a poor weaver, who had been 
at work in his dwelling at this turbulent moment. His wife 
urged him to fly into the city. "Why should I fly?" said the 
Moor — "to be reserved for hunger and slavery? I tell you, 
wife, J will await the foe here ; for better is it to die quickly 

* Cura de los Palacios. MS. 



164 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

by the steel, tlian to perish piecemeal in chains and dun- 
geons." He said no more, but resumed his occupation of 
weaving; and in the indiscriminate fury of the assault, was 
slaughtered at his loom.* 

The Christians remained masters of the field, and proceeded 
to pitch three encampments for the prosecution of the siege. 
The king, with the great body of the army, took a position on 
the side of the city next to Granada: the marques of Cadiz 
and his brave companions once more pitched their tents upon 
the heights of Santo Albohacen : but the English earl planted 
his standard sturdily within the suburb he had taken. 



CHAPTER XL. 



CONCLUSION OF THE SIEGE OF LOXA. 

Haying possession of the heights of Albohacen and the i 
suburb of the city, the Christians were enabled to choose the 
most favorable situations for their batteries. They inune- 
diately destroyed the stone bridge, by which the garrison had | 
made its saUies ; and they threw two wooden bridges across '\ 
the river, and others over the canals and streams, so as to \ 
establish an easy communication between the different camps. ! 

When all was arranged, a heavy fire was opened upon the 
city from various points. They threw, not only balls of stone | 
and iron, but great carcasses of fire, which burst like meteors | 
on the houses, wrapping them instantly in a blaze. The walls ' 
were shattered, and the towers toppled down, by tremendous 
discharges from the lombards. Through the openings thus 
made, they could behold the interior of the city— houses 
tumbling or in flames— men, women, and children, flying in 
terror through the streets, and slaughtered by the shower of 
missiles, sent through the openings from smaller artillery, and | 
from cross-blows and arquebusses. 

The Moors attempted to repair the breaches, but fresh dis- 
charges from the lombards buried them beneath the ruins of 
the walls they were mending. In their despair, many of the 
mhabitants rushed forth into the narrow streets of the 
suburbs, and assailed the Christians with darts, scimitars, and 

* Pulgar, part 3, c. 58. 



THE CONQUEST OF Oil AN AD A. 105 

poniards, seeking to destroy rather than defend, and heedless 
of death, in the confidence that to die iigliting with an un- 
behev(^r, was to be translated at once to paradise. 

For two nights and a day this awful scene continued; when 
certain of the principal hihabittmts began to reflect ujjon the 
hopelessness of the conflict: their king was disabled, their 
principal captains were either killed or wounded, their fortifi- 
cations little better than heaps of ruins. They had urged the 
unfortunate Boabdil to the conflict ; they now clamored for a 
capitulation. A parley was procured from the Christian mon- 
arch, and the terms of surrender were soon adjusted. They 
were to yield up the city mnnediately, v/ith all their Christian 
captives, and to sally forth with as much of their property as 
they could take with them. The marques of Cadiz, on whose 
honor and humanity they had great reliance, was to escort 
them to Granada, to protect them from assault or robbery: 
such as chose to remain in Spain were to be x>ermitted to 
reside m Castile, Arragon, or Valencia. As to Boabdil el 
Chico, he was to do homage as vassal to king Ferdinand, but 
no charge was to be urged against him of having violated his 
former pledge. If he should yield up ail pretensions to 
Granada, the title of duke of Cuadix was to be assigned to 
him, and the territory thereto annexed, provided it shoidd be 
recovered from El Zagal within six months. 

The capitidation being arranged, they gave as hostages the 
alcayde of the city, and the principal officers, together with 
the sons of their late chieftain, the veteran Ali Atar. The 
■warriors of Loxa then issued forth, humbled and dejected at 
having to surrender those walls which they had so lonp: main- 
tained with valor and renown ; and the women and children 
filled the air with' lamentations, at being exiled from their 
native homes. 

Last came forth Boabdil, most tiaily called El Zogoybi, the 
unlucky. Accustomed, as he was, to be croAvned and un- 
crowned, to be ransomed and treated as a matter of bargain, 
he had acceded of course to the capitidation. He was en- 
feebled by his wounds, and had an air of dejection ; yet it is 
said, his conscience acciuitted him of a breach of faith towards 
the Castilian sovereigns, and the personal valor he had dis- 
played had ca,used a sympathy for him among many of the 
Christian cavaliers. He knelt to Ferdinand according to the 
forms of vassalage, and then departed, in melancholy mood, 
for Priego, a town about three leagues distant. 



IQQ TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

Ferdinand immediately ordered Loxa to be repaired, and 
strongly garrisoned. He was greatly elated at the capture of 
this place, in consequence of his former defeat before its walls. 
He passed great encomiams upon the commanders who had 
distinguished themselves; and historians dwell particularly 
upon liis visit to the tent of the English earl. His majesty 
consoled hmi for the loss of his teeth, by the consideration that 
he might otherwise have lost them by natural decay ; whereas 
the lack of them Avould now be esteemed a beauty, rather than 
a defect, serving as a trophy of the glorious cause in which he 
had been engaged. 

The earl replied, that he gave thanks to God and to the holy 
virgin, for being thus honored by a visit from the most potent 
king in Christendom ; that he accepted with all gratitude his 
gracious consolation for the loss of his teeth, though he held it 
little to lose two teeth in the service of God, who had given 
him all: — "A speech," says Fray Antonio Agapida, "fall of 
most courtly wit and Christian piety ; and one only marvels 
that it should have been made by a native of an island so far 
distant froni Castile." 



CHAPTER XLI. 

CAPTURE OF ILLORA. 



King Ferdinand followed up his victory at Loxa, by laying 
siege to the strong town of Illora. This redoubtable fortress 
was perched upon a high rock, in the midst of a spacious val- 
ley. It was within four leagues of the Moorish capital ; and 
its lofty ca,stle, keeping vigilant watch over a wide circuit of 
country, was termed the right eye of Granada. 

The alcayde of Illora was one of the bravest of the Moorish 
commanders, and made every preparation to defend his for- 
tress to the last extremity. He sent the women and children, 
the aged and infirm, to the metropolis. He placed barricades 
in the suburbs, opened doors of communication from house to 
house, and pierced their walls with loop-holes for the discharge 
of cross-bows, arquebusses, and other missiles. 

King Ferdinand arrived before the place, with all his forces ; 
he stationed himself upon the hill of Encinilla, and distributed 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 167 

the other encampments in various situations, so as to invest 
the fortress. Knowing the vahant character of the alcayde, 
and the desperate courage of the Moors, he ordered the en- 
campments to be fortiiied with trenches and palhsadoes, the 
guards to be doubled, and sentinels to be placed in all the 
watch-towers of the adjacent heights. 

When all was ready, the duke del Infantado demanded the 
attack ; it was his first campaign, and he was anxious to dis- 
prove the royal insinuation made agamst the hardihood of his 
embroidered chivah-y. Kind Ferdinand granted his demand, 
with a becoming compliment to his spirit; he ordered the 
count de Cabra to make a simultaneous attack upon a differ- 
ent quarter. Both chiefs led forth their troops ; — those of the 
duke in fresh and brilliant armor, richly ornamented, and as 
yet uninjured by the service of the field ; those of the count 
were weatherbeaten veterans, whose armor was dented and 
hacked in many a hard-fought battle. The youthful duk? 
blushed at the contrast. "Cavaliers," cried he, "vv^e have 
been reproached with the finery of our array: let us prove 
that a trenchant blade may rest in a gilded sheath. Forward ! 
to the foe ! and I trust in God, that as we enter this affray 
knights well accoutred, so ^ve shall leave it cavaliers Aveil 
proved." His men responded by eager acclamations, and the 
duke led them forward to the assault. He advanced under a 
tremendous shower of stones, darts, balls, and arrows; but 
nothing could check his career; he entered the suburb sword 
in hand ; his men fought fui'iously, though with great loss, for 
every dwelling had been turned into a fortress. After a se- 
vere conflict, they succeeded in driving the Moors into the 
town, about the same time that the other suburb was car- 
v\('(\ by the count de Cabra and his veterans. The troops of 
tlie duke del Infantado came out of the contest thinned in 
number, and covered with blood, and dust, and wounds: they 
received the highest encomiums of the king, and there was 
n<'ver afterwards any sneer at their embroidery. 

The suburbs being taken, three batteries, each furnished 
with eight huge lombards, were opened upon the fortress. 
The damage and havoc were tremendous, for the fortifica- 
tions had not been constructed to withstand such engines. 
The towers were overthrown, the walls battered to pieces ; the 
interior of the place was all exposed, houses demohshed, and 
nany peo])le slain. The Moors were terrified by the tumbling 
ruins, and the tremendous din. The alcayde had resolved to 



168 THE CONQUEST OF ORANADA. 

defend the place until the last extremity ; he beheld it a heap 
of rubbish; there was no prospect of aid from Granada; his 
people had lost all spirit to fight, and were vociferous for a 
surrender ; with a reluctant heart, he capitulated. The inhabi- 
tants were permitted to depart with all their effects, excepting 
their arms ; and were escorted in safety by the duke del In- 
fantado and the count de Cabra, to the bridge of Pinos, within 
1 70 leagues of G-ranada. 

King Ferdinand gave directions to repair the fortifications 
of Illora, and to place it in a strong state of defence. He left, 
as alcayde of the town and fortress, Gonsalvo de Cordova, 
younger brother of Don Alonzo de Aguilar. This gallant ca- 
valier was captain of the royal guards of Ferdinand and Isa- 
bella, and gave already proofs of that prowess which after- 
\ ards rendered him so renowned. 



CHAPTER XLH. 



OF THE ARRIVAL OF QUEEN ISABELLA AT THE CAMP BEFORE 
MOCLIN; AND OF THE PLEASANT SAYINGS OF THE ENGLISH 
EARL. 

The war of Granada, however poets may embroider it with 
the flowers of their fancy, was certainly one of the sternest of 
those iron conflicts which have been celebrated under the 
name of holy wars. The worthy Fray Antonio Agapida 
dwells with unsated delight upon the succession of rugged 
mountain enterprises, bloody battles, and merciless sackings 
and ravages which characterized it ; yet we find him on one 
occasion pausing in the full career of victory over the infidels, 
to detail a stately pageant of the Catholic sovereigns. 

Immediately on the capture of Loxa, Ferdinand had written 
oo Isabella,, soliciting her presence at the camp, that he might 
consult with her as to the disposition of their newly acquired 
territories. 

It was in the early part of June that the queen departed 
from Cordova, with the princess Isabella and numerous ladies 
of her court. She had a glorious attendance of cavaliers and 
pages, with many guards and domestics. There were forty 
mules, for the use of the queen, the princess, and their train. 

As this courtly cavalcade approached the Rock of the 



THE CONQUEST OF OR AN AD A. 1G9 

Lovers, on the banks of the river Yegiias, they beheld a splen- 
did train of knights advancing to meet them. It was headed 
by that accomphshed cavalier the marques duke de Cadiz, ac- 
companied by the adelantado of Andalusia. He had left the 
camp the day after the capture of lUora, and advanced thus 
far to receive the queen and escort her over the borders. The 
queen received the marques with distinguished honor ; for he 
was esteemed the mirror of chivalry. His actions in this war 
had become the theme of every tongue, and many hesitated 
not to compare him in prowess to the immortal Cid.* 

Thus gallantly attended, the queen entered the vanquished 
frontier of Granada; journeying securely along the pleasant 
banks of the Xenel, so lately subject to the scourings of the 
Moors. She stopped at Loxa, where she administered aid and 
consolation to the wounded, distributing money among them 
for their support, according to their rank. 

The king, after the capture of Illora, had removed his camp 
before the fortress of Moclin, with an intention of besieging it. 
Thither the queen proceeded, still escorted through the moun- 
tain roads by the marques of Cadiz. As Isabella drew near to 
the camp, the duke del Infantado issued forth a league and a 
half to receive her, magnificently arrayed, and followed by all 
his chivalry in glorious attire. With him came the standard 
of Seville, borne by the men-at-arms of that renowned city ; 
and the Prior of St. Juan, with his followers. They arrayed 
themselves in order of battle, on the left of the road by which 
the queen was to pass. 

The worthy Agapida is loyally minute, in his description of 

the state and grandeur of the Catholic sovereigns. The queen 

rode a chestnut mule, seated in a magnificent saddle-chair 

decorated with silver gilt. The housings of the mule were of 

fine crimson cloth ; the borders embroidered with gold ; the 

! reins and head-piece were of satin, curiously embossed with 

: needlework of silk, and wrought with golden letters. The 

I queen wore a brial, or regal skirt of velvet, under which 

: were others of brocade ; a scarlet mantle, ornamented in the 

Moresco fashion; and a black hat, embroidered round the 

I crown and brim. 

I The Infanta was likewise mounted on a chestnut mule, richly 
I caparisoned : she wore a brial or skirt of black brocade, and a 
black mantle ornamented like that of the queen. 

* Ciira de los Palacios. 



170 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

Y7hcn the royal cavalcade passed by the chivalry of the duke 
del Infantado, which was drawn out in battle array, the queen 
made a reverence to the standard of Seville, and ordered it to 
pass to the right hand. When she approached the camp, the 
multitude ran forth to meet her, with great demonstrations of 
joy; for she was universally beloved by her subjects. All the 
battalions sallied forth in military array, bearing the various 
standards and banners of the camp, which w^ere lowered in 
salutation as she passed. 

The king now came forth in royal state, mounted on a superb 
chestnut horse, and attended by many grandees of Castile, 
lie wore a jubon or close vest of crimson cloth, with cuisses or 
short skirts of yellow satin, a loose cassock of brocade, a rich 
I\Ioorish scimitar, and a hat with plumes. The grandees who 
attended him were arrayed with wonderful magnificence, each 
according to his taste and invention. 

These high and mighty princes (says Antonio Agapida) re- 
gard each other with great deference, as allied sovereigns, 
rather than with connubial familiarity as mere husband and 
wife. When they approached each other, therefore, before 
embracing, they made three profoimd reverences; the queen 
taking off her hat, and remaining in a silk net or cawl, with 
her face uncovered. The king then approached and embraced 
her, and kissed her respectfullj^ on the cheek. He also em- 
braced his daughter the princess ; and, making the sign of the 
cross, he blessed her, and kissed her on the lips.* 

The good Agapida seems scarcely to have been more struck 
with the appearance of the sovereigns, than Avith that of the 
English earl. He followed (says he) immediately after the 
king, with great pomp, and, in an extraordinary manner, tak- 
ing precedence of all the rest. He was mounted ''a la guisa,^'' 
or with long stirrups, on a superb chestnut horse, with trap- 
pings of azure silk which reached to the ground. The housings 
were of mulberry, powdered with stars of gold. He was armed 
in proof, and wore over liis armor a short French mantle of 
black brocade ; he had a white French hat with plumes, and 
carried on his left arm a small round buckler, banded with gold. 
Five pages attended him, apparelled in silk and brocade, and 
mounted on horses sumptuously caparisoned; he had also a 
train of followers, bravely attired after the fashion of his 
country. 

* Oura de los Palacios. 



TIIK CO^'qUKIST OF GRANADA. J71 

He advanced in a chivalrous and courteous manner, making 
his reverences first to the queen and Infanta, and afterwards 
to the king. Queen Isabella received him graciously, compli- 
menting him on his courageous conduct at Loxa, and condoling 
vith him on the loss of his teeth. The earl, however, made 
light oi his disfiguring wound ; saying, that ' ' our blessed Lord, 
who had built all that house, had opened a window there, that 
he might see more readily what passed within:" * whereupon 
the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida is more than ever astonished 
at the pregnant wit of this island cavalier. The earl continued 
some little distance by the side of the royal family, compli- 
menting them all with coui-teous speeches, his horse curvet- 
ting and caracoling, but being managed with great grace and 
dexterity ; leaving the grandees and the people at large, not 
more filled with admiration at the strangeness and magnifi- 
cence of his state, than at the excellence of his horseman- 
ship.t 

To testify her sense of the gallantry and services of this 
noble English knight, who had come from so far to assist in 
their wars, the queen sent him the next day presents of twelve 
horses, with stately tents, fine linen, two beds with coverings 
of gold brocade, and many other articles of great value. 

Having refreshed himself, as it were, with the description of 
this progress of queen Isabella to the camp, and the glorious 
pomp of the CathoHc sovereigns, the worthy Antonio Agapida 
returns with renewed relish to Ms pious work of discomfiting 
the Moors. 

The description of this royal pageant, and the particulars 
concerning the English earl, thus given from the manuscript 
of Fray Antonio Agapida, agree precisely ^^dth the chronicle of 
Andres Bernaldes, the curate of los Palacios. The English 
earl makes no further figure in this war. It appears from 
various histories, that he returned in the course of the year to 
England. In the following year, his passion for fighting tooli 
hi in to the continent at the head of four hundred adventiu-ers, 
ill aid of Francis, duke of Brittany, against Louis XI. of 
J'rance. He was killed in the same year [1488J in the battle of 
St. Alban's, between the Bretons and the French. 



I 



* Pietro Martyr, Epist. 61. t Cura de los Palacios. 



172 '^^^^ CO^qUKST OF GIUJVADA. 



CHAPTER XLIII. 

HOW KING FERDINAND ATTACKED MOCLIN, AND OF THE STRANGE 
EVENTS THAT ATTENDED ITS CAPTURE. 

"The Catholic sovereigns," says Fray Antonio Agapida, 
"iiad by this time closely clipped the right wing of the Moor- 
ish vulture." In other words, mos-t of the strong fortresses 
along the western frontier of Granada had fallen beneath the 
Christian artillery. The army now lay encamped before the 
town of Moclin, on the frontier of Jaen, one of the most stub- 
born fortresses of the border. It stood on a high rocky hill, 
the base of which was nearly girdled by a river : a thick forest 
protected the back part of the town, towards the mountain. 
Thus strongly situated, it domineered, with its frowning 
battlements and massive towers, all the mountain passes into 
that part of the country, and was called " the shield of Grana- 
da." It had a double arrear of blood to settle with the Chris- 
tians ; two hundred years before, a Master of Santiago and all 
his cavaliers had been lanced by the Moors before its gates. 
It had recently made terrible slaughter among the troops of 
the good count de Cabra, in his precipitate attempt to entrap 
the old Moorish monarch. The pride of Ferdinand had been 
piqued by being obliged on that occasion to recede from his 
plan, and abandon his concerted attack on the place ; he was 
now prepared to take a full revenge. 

El Zagal, the old warrior king of Granada, anticipating a 
second attempt, had provided the place with ample ammuni- 
tions and provisions ; had ordered trenches to be digged, and 
additional bulwarks thrown up ; and caused all the old men^ 
the women, and the children, to be removed to the capital. 

Such was the strength of the fortress, and the difficulties of 
its position, that Ferdinand anticipated much trouble in reduc- 
ing it, and made every preparation for a regular siege. In the 
centre of his camp were two great mounds, one of sacks of 
flour, the other of grain, which w-ere called the royal granary. 
Three batteries of heavy ordnPvnce were opened against the 
citadel and principal towers, while smaller artillery, engines 
for the discharge of missiles, arquebusses and cross-bows, 
were distributed in various places, to keep up a fire into 



THE CO K QUEST OF GRANADA. 173 

any breaches that might be made, and upon those of the 
garrison who should appear on the battlements. 

The lombards soon made an impression on the works, 
demolishing a part of the wall, and tumbling down several 
of those haughty towers, which from their height had been 
imi)regnable before the invention of gunpowder. The Moors 
repaired * their walls as well as they were able, and, still 
confiding in the strength of their situation, kept up a reso- 
lute defence, firing down from their lofty battlements and 
towci-s upon the Christian camp. For two nights and a day 
an incessant fire was kept up, so that there w^as not a moment 
in wliich the roaring of ordnance was not heard, or some 
damage sustained by the Christians or the Moors. It was a 
conflict, however, more of engineers and artillerists than of 
gallant cavaliers; there was no sally of troops, or shock of 
armed men, or rush and charge of cavalry. The knights stood 
looking on with idle weapons, waiting until they should have 
an opportunity of signalizing their prowess by scahng the 
■walls, or storming the breaches. As the place, however, 
was assailable only in one part, there was every prospect 
of a long and obstinate resistance. 

The engineers, as usual, discharged not merely balls of 
stone and iron, to demolish the walls, but flaming balls of 
inextinguishable combustibles, designed to set fire to the 
houses. One of these, which passed high through the air 
hke a meteor, sending out sparks and crackling as it Avent, 
entered the window of a tower which was used as a magazine 
of gunpow^der. The tower blew up, with a tremendous ex- 
plosion ; the Moors who were upon its battlements were hurled 
into the air, and fell mangled in various parts of the town; 
and the houses in its vicinity were rent and overthrown as 
with an earthquake. 

The Moors, who had never witnessed an explosion of the 
kind, ascribed the destruction of the tower to a miracle. 
Some v.'ho had seen the descent of the flaming ball, imagined 
that fire had fallen from heaven to punish them for their 
pertinacity. The pious Agapida, himself, believes that this 
fiery missive was conducted by divine agency to confound 
the infidels; an opinion in Avhich he is supported by other 
Caiholic historians.* 

Seeing heaven and earth as it were combined against them, 

* Pulgar. Garibay. Lucio Marino Siculo, Cosas Mcmoral. dc Hispan. lib. 20. 



174 THE CONQUEST OF OH AN A DA. 

the Moors lost all heart : they capitulated, and were permitted 
to depart with their effects, leaving behind all arms and muni- 
tions of war. 

The Catholic army (says Antonio Agapida) entered Mochn in 
solemn state, not as a licentious host, intent upon plunder and 
desolation, but as a band of Christian warriors, coining t© 
pm'ify and regenerate the land. The standard oi xhe cross, 
that ensign of this holy crusade, was borne in the advance, 
followed by the other banners of the army. Then came the 
king and queen, at the head of a vast number of armed 
cavaliers. They were accompanied by a bajid of priests and 
friars, with the choir of the royal chapel, chanting the can- 
ticle " Te deuin laudamus.^'' As they were moving through 
the streets in this solemn manner, every sound hushed except- 
ing the anthem of the choir, they suddenly heard, issuing as 
it were from under ground, a chorus ot voices chanting the 
solemn response, ^^ Benedictum qui venit in nomine domini.'''' ^' 
The procession paused in wonder. The sounds arose from 
Christian captives, and among tnem several priests, who were 
confined in subterraneous dungeons. 

The heart of Isabella was greatly touched. She ordered the 
captives to be drawn forth from their cells, and was still more 
moved at beholding, by their wan, discolored, and emaciated 
appearance, how much they had suffered. Their hair and 
beards were overgrown and shagged; they were wasted by 
hunger, half naked, and in chains. She ordered that they 
should be clothed and cherished, and money furnished them 
te bear them to then' homes, t 

Several ot the captives were brave cavaliers, who had been 
wounded and made prisoners, in the defeat of the count de 
Cabra by El Zagal, in the preceding year. There were also 
found other melancholy traces of that disastrous affair. On 
visiting the narrow pass where the defeat had taken place, the 
remains of several Christian warriors were found in thickets, 
or hidden behind rocks, or in the clefts of the mountains. 
These were some who had been struck from their horses, and 
wounded too severely to fly. They had crawled away from 
the scene of action, and concealed themselves to avoid falhng 
into the hands of the enemy, and had thus perished miserably 
and alone. The remains of those of note were known by theii 



* Marino Siculo. 

t lUescas, Hist. Pontif. lib. 5, c. 20, § 1. 



THE CO^QUKST OF OHAAADA. 175 

armor and devices, and were mourned over by their com- 
panions who had shared the disasters of that day,* 

The queen had these remains piously collected, as the relics 
of so many martyrs who had fallen in the cause of the faith. 
They were interred with great solemnity in the mosques of 
Moclin, which had been purified and consecrated to C^hristian 
worship. " There," says Antonio Agapida, " rest the bones of 
those truly Catholic knights, in the holy ground which in a 
manner had been sanctified by their blood; and all pilgrims 
passing through those mountains offer up prayers and masses 
for the repose of their souls." 

The queen remained for some time at Moclin, administering 
comfort to the wounded and the prisoners, bringing the 
newly acquii'ed territory into order, and foimding churches 
and monasteries and other pious institutions. "While the 
king marched in front, laying waste the land of the Philis- 
tines," says the figurative Antonio Agapida, "queen Isabella 
followed his traces as the binder follows the reaper, gathering 
and garnering the rich harvest that has fallen beneath his 
sickle. In this she was greatly assisted by the counsels of that 
cloud of bishops, friars, and other saintly men, wliich continu- 
ally surrounded her, garnering the first fruits of this infidel 
land into the granaries of the church." Leaving her thus 
piously employed, the king pursued his career of conquest, 
determined to lay waste the vega, and carry fire and sword to 
the very gates of Granada. 



CHAPTEE XLIV. 



HOW KING FERDINAND FORAGED THE VEGA; AND OF THE BAT- 
TLE OF THE BRIDGE OF PINOS, AND THE FATE OF THE TWO 
MOORISH BROTHERS. 

MuLEY Abdallah EL Zagal had been under a speU of ill 
fortune, ever since the suspicious death of the old king, liis 
brother. Success had deserted his standard; and, mth his 
fickle subjects, want of success was one of the gi-eatest crimes 
in a sovereign. He found his popularity declining, and he lost 

* Pulgar, part 3, cap. 61. 



176 2'^^^ CONQUEST OF OR AN AD A. 

all confidence in his people. The Christian army marched in 
open defiance through his territories, and sat down deliber- 
ately before his fortresses; yet he dared not lead forth his 
legions to oppose them, lest the inha.bitants of the Albaycin, 
ever ripe for a revolt, should rise and shut the gates of Gra- 
nada against his return. 

Every few days, some melancholy train entered the metro- 
polis, the inhabitants of some captured town, bearing the few 
effects that had been spared them, and weeping and bewailing 
the desolation of their homes. When the tidings arrived that 
Illora and Moclin had fallen, the people were seized with con- 
sternation. "The right eye of Granada is extinguished," ex- 
claimed they; "the shield of Granada is broken: what shall 
protect us from the inroad of the foe?" When the survivors 
of the garrisons of those towns arrived, with downcast looks, 
bearing the marks of battle, and destitute of arms and stan 
dards, the populace reviled them in their wrath; but thej^ 
answered, "We fought as long as we had force to fight, or 
walls to shelter us; but the Christians laid our towns and 
battlements in ruins, and we looked in vain for aid from 
Granada." 

The alcaydes of Illora and Moclin were brothers ; they were 
alike in prowess, and the bravest among the Moorish cheva- 
liers. They had been the most distinguished in all tilts and 
tourneys which graced the happier days of Granada, and 
had distinguished themselves in the sterner conflicts of the 
field. Acclamation had always followed their banners, and 
they had long been the delight of the people. Yet now, when 
they returned after the capture of their fortresses, they were 
followed by the unsteady populace ^vith execrations. The 
hearts of the alcaydes swelled with indignation; they found 
the ingratitude of their countrymen still more intolerable than 
the hostility of the Christians. 

Tidings came, that the enemy was advancing with his trium- 
phant legions to lay waste the country about Granada. Still 
El Zagal did not dare to take the field. The two alcaydes of 
Illora and Moclin stood before him: "We have defended your 
fortresses," said they, "until we were almost buried under 
their ruins, and for our rewa,rd we receive scofiings and revil- 
ings; give us, O king, an opportunity where knightly valor 
may signalize itself, not shut up behind stone walls, but in the 
open conflict of the field. The enemy approaches to lay our 
country desolate; give us men to meet him in the advance, 



77/ a; coNquh:si of cranada. 177 

and let shame light upon our heads if we be found wanting in 
tlie battle!" 

The two brothers were sent forth, Avith a large force of horse 
ai^d foot; El Zagal intended, siiould they be successful, to 
issue forth vnih. his whole force, and by a decisive victory, 
repair the losses he had suffered. When th(^ people saw the 
well-known standards of the brothers going forth to battle, 
there was a feeble shout; but the alcaydes passed on with 
stern countenances, for they knew the same voices would 
curse them were they to return unfortunate. They cast a 
farewell look upon fair Granada, and upon the beautiful fields 
of their infancy, as if for these they were willing to lay down 
their lives, but not for an ungrateful people. 

The army of Ferdinand had arrived within two leagues of 
Granada, at the Bridge of Pinos, a pass famous in the wars of 
the Moors and Christians for many a bloody conflict. It was 
the pass by which the Castilian monarchs generally made 
their inroads, and was capable of great defence, from the rug- 
gedness of the country and the difficulty of the bridge. The 
king, with the main body of the army, had attained the 
brow of a hill, when they beheld the advance guard, under 
the marques of Cadiz and the Master of Santiago, furiously 
attacked by the enemy, in the vicinity of the bridge. The 
Moors rushed to the assault with their usual shouts, but with 
more than usual ferocity. There was a hard struggle at the 
bridge ; both parties knew the importance of that pass. 

The king particularly noted the prowess of two Moorish 
cavaliers, ahke in arms and devices, and whom by their bear- 
ing and attendance he perceived to be commanders of the 
enemy. They v^ere the two brothers, the alcaydes of Illora 
and Moclin. V/herever they turned, they carried confusion 
and death into the ranks of the Christians ; but they fought 
with desperation, rather than valor. The count de Cabra, and 
his brother Don Martin de Cordova, pressed forward with 
eagerness against them; but having advanced too precipi- 
tately, were surrounded by the foe, and in imminent danger. 
A young Christian knight, seeing theii- peril, hastened with 
his followers to their relief. The king recognized him for Don 
Juan de Arra-gon, count of Ribargoza, his own nephew ; for he 
was illegitimate so i of the duke of Villahermosa, illegitimate 
brother of king Ferdinand. The splendid armor of Don Juan, 
and the sumptuous caparison of his steed, rendered him a bril- 
liant object of attack. He was assailed on all sides, and his 



178 2V/A^ CONQUEST OF OllANADA. 

superb steed slain under liim; yet still he fought valiantly 
bearing for a time the brunt of the fight, and giving the ex- 
hausted forces of the count do Cabra time to recover breath. 

Seeing the peril of these troops and the general obstinacy of 
the fight, the king ordered the royal standard to be advanced, 
and hastened, with all his forces, to the relief of the count de 
Cabra. At his approach, the enemy gave way, and retreated 
towards the bridge. The two Moorish commanders endea- 
vored to rally their troops, and animate them to defend this 
pass to the utmost: they used prayers, remonstrances, men- 
aces—but almost in vain. They could only collect a scanty 
handful of cavaliers; with these they planted themselves at 
the head of the bridge, and disputed it inch by inch. The 
fight was hot and. obstmate, for but few could contend hand 
to hand, yet many discharged cross-bows and arquebusses 
from the banks. The river was covered with the floating 
bodies of the slain. The Moorish band of cavaliers was almost 
entu-ely cut to pieces; the two brothers fell, covered with 
wounds, upon the bridge they had so resolutely defended. 
They had given up the battle for lost, but had determined not 
to return alive to ungrateful Granada. 

When the people of the capital heard how devotedly they 
had fallen, they lamented greatly their deaths, and extolled 
their memory: a column was erected to their honor in the 
vicinity of the bridge, which long went by the name of ' ' the 
Tomb of the Brothers." 

The army of Ferdinand now marched on, and established its 
camp in the vicinity of Granada. The worthy Agapida gives 
many triumphant details of the ravages committed in the 
vega, which was again laid waste ; the grain, fruits, and other 
productions of the earth, destroyed — and that earthly paradise 
rendered a dreary desert. He narrates several fierce but in- 
effectual sallies and skirmishes of the Moors, in defence of their 
favorite plain ; among which, one deserves to be mentioned, as 
it records the achievements of one of the saintly heroes of this 
war. 

During one of the movements of the Christian army, near 
the walls of Granada, a battalion of fifteen hundred cavalry, 
and a large force of foot, had sallied from the city, and posted 
themselves near some gardens, which were surrounded by a 
canal, and traversed by ditches, for the purpose of irrigation. 

The Moors beheld the duke del Infantado pass by, with his 
two splendid battalions ; one of men-at-arms, the other of light 



THE CONQUKST OF a RAX ADA. 17^^ 

cavalry, armed a la gincfa. In company with him, but follow- 
ing as a rear-guard, was Don Garcia Osorio, the belligerent 
bishop of Jaen, attended by Francisco J>(jvadillo, the corregidor 
of his city, and followed by two squadrons of men-at-arms, from 
Jaen, Anduxar, Ubeda, and Baeza.* The success of last year's 
campaign liad given the good bishop an inclination for warlike 
affairs, and he had once more buckled on his cuirass. 

The Moors were much given to stratagem in warfare. They 
looked wistfully at the magnificent squadrons of tAie duke del 
Infantado; but their martial discipline precluded all attack: 
the good bishop promised to be a more easy prey. Suffering 
the duke and his troops to pass unmolested, they approached 
the squadrons of the bishop, and, making a pretended attack, 
skirmished slightly, and fled in apparent confusion. The 
bishop considered the day his own, and, seconded by his cor- 
regidor Bovadillo, followed with valorous precipitation. The 
Moors fled into the Huerta del Rey, or orchard of the king ; the 
troops of the bishop followed hotly after them. 

When the Moors perceived their pursuers fairly embarrassed 
among the intricacies of the garden, they turned fiercely upon 
them, while some of their number threw open the sluices of the 
Xenel. In an instant, the canal which encircled and the 
ditches which traversed the garden, were filled with water, 
and the valiant bishop and his followers found themselves 
overwhelmed by a deluge. f A scene of great confusion suc- 
ceeded. Some of the men of Jaen, stoutest of heart and hand, 
fought mth the Moors in the garden, while others struggled 
with the water, endeavoring to escape across the canal, in 
which attempt many horses were drowned. 

Fortunately, the duke del Infantado perceived the snare into 
which his companions had fallen, and dispatched his light 
cavalry to their assistance. The Moors were compelled to 
flight, and driven along the road of Elvira up to the gates of 
Granada. I Several Christian cavaliers perished in this affray ; 
the bishop himself escaped with difficidty, having shpped from 
his saddle in crossing the canal, but saving himself by holding 
on to the tail of his charger. This perilous achievement seems 
to have satisfied the good bishop's belligerent propensities. Ho 
retired on his laurels, (says Agapida,) to his city of Jaen; 
where, in the fruition of all good things, he gradually Avaxed 
too corpulent for his corselet, wliich was hung up in the hall of 



* Pulgar, part 3, cap. 62. t Piilgar. t Pulgar. 



380 1'^^^ G0AQU'LJ>S2' OF GL^AJVADA. 

his episcopal palace; and we hear no more of his military 
deeds, throughout the residue of the holy war of Granada.* 

King Ferdinand, having completed his ravage of the vega, 
and kept El Zagal shut up in his cax3ital, conducted his army 
back through the pass of Lope to rejoin queen Isabella at 
Moclin. The fortresses lately taken being well garrisoned and 
supplied, he gave the command of the frontier to his cousin, 
Don Fadrique de Toledo, afterwards so famous in the Nether 
lands as the duke of Alva. The campaign being thus com- 
pletely crowned with success, the sovereigns returned in tri- 
umph to the city of Cordova. 



CHAPTER XLV. 



THE LATTER WAS ROUSED TO ACTON. 

No sooner did the last squadron of Christian cavalry disap- 
pear behind the mountain of EMra, and the note of its trum- 
pets die away upon the ear, than the long-suppressed Avrath of 
old Muley El Zagal burst forth. He determined no longer to 
be half a king, reigning over a divided kingdom, in a divided 
capital; but to exterminate, by any means, fair or foul, his 
nephew Boabdil and his faction. He turned furiously upon 
those whose factious conduct had deterred him from sallying : 
upon the foe; some he punished by confiscations, others by 
banishment, others by death. Once undisputed monarch of 
the entire kingdom, he trusted t.o his military skill to retrieve! 
his fortunes, and drive the Christians over the frontier. 

Boabdil, however, had again retired to Yelez el Blanco, on; 
the confines of Murcia, where he could avail himself, in case of 
emergency, of any assistance or protection afforded him by the 
policy of Ferdinand. His defeat had blighted his reviving for- 
tunes, for the people considered him as inevitably doomed to 
misfortune. Still, while he lived. El Zagal knew he would be 
a rallying point for faction, and liable at any moment to be , 

*"Don Luis Osorio fue obispo de Jaen desde el afio del 483, y presidio in esta ■'- 
i^lesia hasta el de 1496 in que murio en Flandes, a donde fne acorapaiiando a la 
princesa Doiia Juana. esposadel arcbiduque Don Felipe. "—jE's23a?ia Sagrada, per Fr. 
M. Risco, torn. 41, trat. 77, cap. 4. 



TlllC C02sqUE>'iT OF GltAi\Al)A. 1^1 

elevated into power by the capricious multitude. He had 
recourse, therefore, to the most perfidious means to compass 
his destruction. He sent embassadors to him, representing the 
necessity of concord for the salvation of the Icingdom, and 
even offering to resign the title of king, and to become subject 
to his sway, on receiving some estate on which he could live in 
tranquil retirement. But while the embassadors bore these 
words of peace, they were furnished with poisoned herbs, 
which they were to administer secretly to Boabdil ; and if they 
failed in this attempt, they had pledged themselves to dispatch 
him openly, while engaged in conversation. They were insti- 
gated to this treason by promises oi great reward, and by as- 
surances from the alfacjuis that Boabdil was an apostate, 
whose death would be acceptable to Heaven. 

The young monarch was secretly apprised of the concerted 
treason, and refused an audience to the embassadors. He de- 
nounced liis uncle as the murderer of his father and his kin- 
dred, and the usurper of his throne ; and vowed never to relent 
in hostility to him, until he should place his head on the walls 
of the Alhambra. 

Open war again broke out between the two monarchs, though 
feebly carried on, in consequence of their mutual embarrass- 
ments. Ferdinand again ex^tended his assistance to Boabdil, 
ordering the commanders of his fortresses to aid him in all 
enterprises against his uncle, and against such places as refused 
to acknowledge him as king ; and Don Juan de Bonavides, who 
commanded m Lorca, even made inroads in his name, into 
the territo:ies of Almeria, Baza, and Guadix, which owned 
allegiance to El Zagal. 

The unfortunate Boabdil had three gi-eat evils to contend 
with— the inconstancy of his subjects, the hostility of his 
uncle, and the friendship of Ferdinand. The last was by far 
the most baneful: his fortunes withered under it. He was 
looked upon as the enemy of his faith and of his country. The 
cities shut their gates against him ; the people cursed him ; even 
the scanty band of cavaliers, who had hitherto followed his 
ill-starred banner, began to desert him ; for he had not where- 
withal to reward, or even to support them. His spirits sunk 
with his fortune, and he feared that in a little time he should 
'' Qot have a spot of earth whereon to i^lant his standard, nor an 
adherent to rally under it. 

In the midst of his despondency, he received a message from 
his Uon-hearted mother, the sultana Ayxa la Horra. ''For 



182 TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

shame," said she, "to Hnger timorously about the borders of 
your kingdom, when a usurper is seated in your capital. Why 
look abroad for perfidious aid, when you have loyal hearts 
beating true to you in Granada ? The Albaycin is ready to 
throw open its gates to reoeive you. Strike home vigorously 
— a sudden blow may mend all, or make an end. A throne or 
a grave!— for a king, there is no honorable medium." 

Boabdil was of an undecided character, but there are circum- 
stances which bring the most wavering to a decision, and when 
once resolved they are apt to act with a daring impulse un- 
known to steadier judgToents. The message of the sultana 
roused him from a dream. Granada, beautiful Granada, with 
its stately Alhambra, its delicious gardens, its gushing and 
limpid fountains sparkling among groves of orange, citron, 
and myrtle, rose before him. " What have I done," exclaimed 
he, "that I should be an exile from this paradise of my fore- 
fathers—a wanderer and fugitive in my own kingdom, while a 
murderous usurper sits proudly upon my throne ? Surely Allah 
will befriend the righteous cause; one blow, and all may be my; 
own." 

He summoned his scanty band of cavaliers. " Who is ready 
to follow his monarch unto the death ?" said he : and every one 
laid liis hand upon his scimitar. "Enough!" said he; "let, 
each man arm himself and prepare his steed in secret, for an i 
enterprise of toil and peril : if we succeed, our reward is em- 
pire." 



[END OF VOL. ONE.] 



4 



A CHRONICLE 

OF 

THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA, 



VOLUME SECOND. 



CHAPTER I. 



HOW BOABDIL RETURNED SECRETLY TO GRANADA, AND HOW HE 
WAS RECEIVED. 

In the hand of God," exclaims an old Arabian chronicler, 
' is the destiny of princes ; he alone giveth empire. A single 
Moorish horseman, mounted on a fleet Arabian steed, was one 
lay traversing the mountains wliich extend between Granada 
ind the frontier of Murcia. He galloped swiftly through the 
iralleys, but paused and looked out cautiously from the summit 
5f every lieight. A squadron of cavaliers followed warily at 
distance. There were fifty lances. The richness of their 
irmor and attire showed them to be warriors of noble rank, 
Old their leader had a lofty and prinoe-like demeanor." The 
quadron thus described by the Arabian chronicler, was the 
doorish king Boabdil and his devoted followers. 

For two nights and a day they pursued their adventurous 
purney, avoiding all populous parts of the country, and choos- 
ng the most solitary passes of the mountains. They suffered 
evere hardships and fatigues, but they suffered v^rithout a 
lurmur : they were accustomed to rugged campaigning, and 
eir steeds were of generous and unyielding spirit. It was 
lidnight, and aU was dark and silent as they descended from 
ae mountains, and approached the city of Granada. They 
assed along quietly under the shadow of its vv^alls, until they 
rrived near the gate of the Albaycin. Here Boabdil ordered 



184 THE CONQUEST OE GRANADA. 

his followers to halt, and rcmamed concealed. Taking but foun 
or five with him, he advanced resolutely to the gate, and 
knocked with the hilt of his scimitar. The guards demanded 
who sought to enter at that unseasonable hour. ' ' Your king !" 
exclaimed Boabdil, "open the gate and admit him!" 

The guards held forth a Ught, and re<tK)gnized the person of 
the youthful monarch. They were struck with sudden awe, 
and threw open the gates; and Boabdil and his followers en- 
tered unmolested. They galloped to the dwelhngs of the prin- 
cipal inhabitants of the Albaycin, thundering at their portals, 
a.nd summoning them to rise and take arms for their rightful 
sovereign. The summons was instantly obeyed: trumpets re- 
sounded throughout the streets — the gleam of torches and the 
flash of arms showed the Moors hurrying to their gathering- 
places- and by daybreak, the whole force of the Albaycin was 
rallied under the standard of BoabdU. Such was the success 
of this sudden and desperate act of the young monarch; for' 
we are assured by contemporary historians, that there had 
been no previous concert or arrangement. "As the guards 
opened the gates of the city to admit him," observes a pious; 
chronicler, " so God opened the hearts of the Moors to receive; 
him as their king." * 

In the morning early, the tidings of this event roused El; 
Zagal from his slumbers in the Alhambra. The fiery old war- ' 
rior assembled his guard in haste, and made his way sword in 
hand to the Albaycin, hoping to come upon his nephew by sur- j 
prise. He was vigorously met by Boabdil and his adherents, ■ 
and driven back into the quarter of the Alhambra. An en-; 
counter took place between the two kings, in the square before 
the principal mosque ; here they fought hand to hand with im- 1 
placable fury, as though it had been agreed to decide their I 
competition for the crown by single combat. In the tumult : 
of this chance medley affray, however, they were separated, ! 
and the party of El Zagal was ultimately driven from the) 
square. 

The battle raged for some time in the streets and places of 
the city, but finding their powers of mischief cramped mthin 
such narrow limits, both parties saUied forth into the fields, and 
fought beneath the walls until evening. Many fell on both 
sides, and at night each party withdrew into its quarter, until 
the morning gave them light to renew the unnatural conflict, j 

* Fiilgar. 



THE CONQUEST OV GRANADA. ^sr^ 

For several days, the two grand divisions of the city remained 
like hostile powers arrayed against each other. The party of 
the Alhambra was more numerous than that of the Albaycin, 
and contained most of the nobility and chivalry ; but the ad- 
herents of Boabdil were men hardened and strengthened by 
labor and habitually skilled in the exercise of arms. 

The Albaycin underwent a kind of siege by the forces of El 
Zagal ; they effected breaches in the walls, and made repeated 
attempts to carry it sword in hand, but were as often repulsed 
The troops of Boabdil, on the other hand, made frequent sal- 
lies ; and in the conflicts which took place, the hatred of the 
combatants arose to such a pitch of fury, that no quarter was 
given on either side. 

Boabdil perceived the inferiority of his force ; he dreaded also 
that his adherents, being for the most part tradesmen and arti- 
sans, would become impatient of this interruption of their gain- 
ful occupations, and disheartened by these continual scenes of 
carnage. He sent missives, therefore, in all haste, to Don Fa- 
; drique de Toledo, who commanded the Christian forces on the 
frontier, entreating his assistance. 

Don Fadrique had received instructions from the politic Fer- 
dinand, to aid the youthful monarch in all his contests with his 
uncle. He advanced, therefore, ^vith a body of troops near to 
Granada, but, wary lest some treachery might be intended, he 
stood for some time aloof, watching the movements of the par- 
ties. The furious and sanguinary nature of the conflicts which 
distracted unhappy Granada, soon convinced him that there 
was no collusion between the monarchs. He sent Boabdil, 
therefore, a reinforcement of Christian foot-soldiers and arque- 
busiers, under Fernan Alvarez de Sotomayer, alcayde of Colo- 
mera. This was as a firebrand thrown in to light up anew the 
flames of war in the city, which remained raging between the 
Moorish inhabitants for the space of fifty days. 



CHAPTER n. 

HOW KING FERDINAND LAID SIEGE TO VELEZ MALAGA. 

Hitherto, the events of tliis renowned war have been little 
Ise than a succession of brilliant but brief exploits, such as 
udden forays and wild skirmishes among the moinitains, or 



186 -i^^ COl^qUEST OF GRANADA. , 

i 
the surprisals of castles, fortresses, and frontier towns. "We 
approacli now to more important and prolonged operations, in 
which ancient and mighty cities, the bulwarks of G-ranada, 
were invested by powerful armies, subdued by slow and regu- 
lar sieges, and thus the capital left naked and alone. 

The glorious triumphs of the Catholic sovereigns (says Fray 
Antonio Agapida) had resounded throughout the east, and 
filled all heathenesse with alarm. The Grand-Turk Bajazet II, 
and his deadly foe, the grand soldan of Egypt, suspending for 
a time theu^ bloody feuds, entered into a league to protect the 
religion of Mahomet and the kingdom of Granada from the 
hostilities of the Christians. It was concerted between them, 
that Bajazet should send a powerful armada against the island 
of Sicily, then appertaining to the Spanish crown, for the pur- 
pose of distracting the attention of the Castihan sovereigns; 
while, at the same tune, great bodies of troops should be 
poured into Granada, from the opposite coast of Africa. i 

Ferdinand and Isabella received timely intelligence of these 
designs. They resolved at once to carry the war into the sea- 
board of Granada, to possess themselves of its ports, and thus, 
as it were, to bar the gates of the kingdom against all external 
aid. Malaga was to be the main object of attack : it was the i 
principal seaport of the kingdom, and almost necessary to its 
existence. It had long been the seat of opulent commerce, 
sending many ships to the coasts of Syria and Egypt. It was | 
also the great channel of communication with Africa, through i^ 
which were introduced supplies of money, troops, arms, and \ 
steeds, from Tunis, Tripoh, Fez, Tremezan, and other Barbary '\ 
powers. It was emphatically called, therefore, "the hand and \ 
mouth of Granada." Before laying siege to this redoubtable 
city, however, it was deemed necessary to secure the neigh- 
boring city of Velez Malaga and its dependent places, which 
might otherwise harass the besieging army. 

For this important campaign, the nobles of the kingdom were v 
again summoned to take the field with their forces, in the 
spring of 1487. The menaced invasion of the infidel powers of 
the east had a.wakened new ardor in the bosoms of all true 
Christian knights ; and so zealously did they respond to the 
sunnnons of the sovereigns, that an army of twenty thousand 
cavalry and fifty thousand foot, the flower of Spanish warriors, 
led by the bra. vest of Spanish cavaliers, thronged the renowned 
city of Cordova, at the appointed time. 

On the night before this mighty host set forth upon its march, 



TllhJ CONQUE^^T. OF GUA^ADA ]^7 

an earthquake shook the city. The inhabitants, awakened ]jy 
the shaking of the av.mIIs antl rocking of tlie towers, fled to the 
courts and squares, fearing to be ovcrwhehned by the ruins of 
their dweUings. The earthquake was most violent in tlie 
quarter of the royal residence, the site of the ancient palace oi 
the Moorish kings. Many looked upon this as an omen of pomo 
unpending evil ; but Fray Antonio Agapida, in that infallible 
spirit of divination which succeeds an event, plainly reads in 
it a presage that tho entii-e empire of the Moors was about to be 
shaken to its centre. 

It was on Saturday, the eve of the Sunday of Palms, (says a 
woi-thy and loyal chronicler of the time,) that the most 
Cathohc monarch departed with his army, to render service 
to Heaven, and make war upon the Moors.* Heavy rains had 
swelled all the streams, and rendered the roads deep and diffi- 
cult. The king, therefore, divided his host into two bodies. 
In one he put all the artillery, guarded by a strong body of 
horse, and coimnanded by the Master of Alcantara and Martm 
Alonzo, Senior of Montemayor. This division was to proceed 
by the road through the valleys, where pasturage abounded 
for the oxen wliich drew the ordnance. 

The main body of the army was led hy the king in person. 
It was divided into numerous battalions, each commanded by 
some distinguished cavalier. The king took the I'ough and 
perilous road of the mountains, and few mountains are more 
rugged and difficult than those of Andalusia. The roads are 
mere nmle-paths, straggling amidst rocks and along the verge 
of precipices, clambering vast craggy heights, or descending 
into frightfid chasms and ravines, with scanty and uncertain 
foothold for either man or steed. Four thousand pioneers 
were sent in advance, under the alca^yde de los Donzeles, to 
conquer, in some degi^ee, the asperities of the road. Some had 
pickaxes and crowbars to break the rocks, others had imple- 
ments to construct bridges over the mountain torrents, wliik? 
it was the dutj^ of others to lay stepping-stones in the smaller 
streams. As the country was inliabited by fierce Moorish 
mountaineers, Don Diego de Castrillo v/as dispatched, with a 
body of horse and foot, to take possession of the heights and 
passes. Notwithstanding every precaution, the royal army 
suffered excessively on its march. At one time, there was no 
place to encamp, for five leagues of the most toilsome and 

* Pulgar. Cronica de los Reyes CatLolicus. 



1S8 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

mountainous country ; and many of the beasts of burden sunk 
down, and perished on the road. 

It was with the greatest joy, therefore, that the royal army 
emerged from these stern and frightful defiles, and came to 
where they looked down upon the vega of Velez Malaga. The 
region before them was one of the most delectable to the eye 
that ever was ravaged by an army. Sheltered from every 
rude blast by a screen of mountains, and sloping and expand^ 
ing to the south, this lovely valley was quickened by the most' 
generous sunshine, watered by the silver meanderings of the 
Yelez, and refreshed by cooling breezes from the Mediter- 
ranean. The sloping hills were covered with vineyards and 
olive-trees; the distant fields waved with grain, or were ver- 
dant with pasturage; while around the city were delightful 
gardens, the favorite retreats of the Moors, where their white 
pavilions gleamed among groves of oranges, citrons, and 
pomegranates, and were surmounted by stately palms — those 
pbmts of southern growth, bespeaking a generous climate and 
a cloudless sky. 

In the upper part of this delightful valley, the city of Velez 
Malaga reared its warrior battlements in stern contrast to the 
landscape. It was built on the declivity of a steep and insu- 
lated hill, and strongly fortified by waU and towers. The 
crest of the hill rose high above the town, into a mere crag, 
inaccessible on every other side, and crowned by a powerful 
castle, which domineered over the surrounding country. Two 
suburbs swept down into the valley, from the skirts of the i 
town, and were defended by bulwarks and deep ditches. The | 
vast ranges of gray mountains, often capped with clouds, 
which rose to the north, were inhabited by a hardy and war- 
like race, whose strong fortresses of Comares, Camillas, Com- 
peta, and Benemarhorga, frowned down from cragged heights. 

At the time that the Christian host arrived in sight of this 
valley, a squa^dron was hovering on the smooth sea before it, 
displaying the banner of Castile. This was commanded by ' 
the count of Trevento, and consisted of four armed galleys, | 
conveying a number of caravels, laden with supplies for the ' 
army. 

After surveying the ground, king Ferdinand encamped on , 
the side of a mountain which advanced close to the city, and p 
which was the last of a rugged sierra, or chain of heights, that :| 
extended quite to Granada. On the summit of this mountain, ,, 
and overlooking the camp, was a Moorish town, powerfully \, 



THE COiXQUEST OF GliAXADA. \S3 

fortifiod, called Bentomiz, and which, fi-oni its vicinity, liad 
been considered capable of yielding great assistance to Velez 
Malaga. Several of the generals remonstrated with the king, 
for choosing a post so exposed to assaults from the moun- 
taineers. Ferdinand replied, that he should thus cut off all 
communication between the town and the city; and that as to 
the danger, his soldiers must keep the more vigilant guard 
against surprise. 

King Ferdinand rode forth, attended by several cavaliers 
and a small number of oiiirassiers, appointing the various 
stations of the camp. While a body of foot-soldiers were tak- 
ing possession, as an advanced guard, of an important height 
which overlooked the city, the king retired to a tent to take 
refreshnient. While at table, he was startled by a sudden 
uproar, and, looking forth, beheld his soldiers flying before a 
superior force of the enemy. The king had on no other 
armor but a cuirass; seizing a lance, however, he sprang 
upon his horse and galloped to protect the fugitives, followed 
by liis handful of knights and cuirassiers. When the Spaniards 
saw the king hastening to their aid, they turned upon their 
pursuers. Ferdinand, in his eagerness, threw himself into the 
midst of the foe. One of his grooms was killed beside him ; 
but, before the Moor who slew him could escape, the king 
transfixed him with his lance. He then sought to draw his 
sword, which hung at his saddle-bow— but in vain. Never 
had he been exposed to such peril ; — he was surrounded by the 
enemy, ^vithout a weapon wherewith to defend himself. 

In this moment of awful jeopardy, the marques of Cadiz, 
the count de Cabra, the adelantsido of Murcia, with two other 
cavaliers, named Garcilasso do la Vega and Diego de Atayde, 
came galloping to the scene of action, and, surrounding the 
king, made a loyal rampart of their bodies against the assaults 
of the Mooi-s. The horse of the marques was ])ierced by an 
arrow, and that worthy cavalier exposed to imminent danger ; 
but, with the aid of his valorous companions, he quickly put 
the enemy to flight, and pursued them, with slaughter, to the 
yeiy gates of the city. 

When those loyal warriors returned from the pursuit, they 
remonstrated with the king for exposing his life in personal 
conflict, seeing that he had so many valiant captains whose 
business it was to fight. They reminded him thot the life of a 
prince was th(» life of his people, and that many a bj*ave army 
was lost by the loss of its commander. They entreated him, 



190 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

therefore, in future, to protect them with the force of his mind 
in the cabinet, rather than of his arm in the field. 

Ferdinand acknowledged the wisdom of their advice, but 
declared that he could not see his people in peril without ven- 
turing his person to assist them : — a reply (say the old chroni- 
clers) which delighted the whole army, inasmuch as they saw 
that he not only governed them as a good king, but protected 
them as a valiant captain. Ferdinand, however, was con- 
scious of the extreme peril to wliich he had been exposed, and 
made a vow never again to venture into battle without having 
his sword girt to his side.* 

When this achievement of the king was related to Isabella, 
she trembled amidst her joy at his safety ; and afterwards, in 
memorial of the event, she granted to Yelez Malaga, as the 
arms of the city, the figure of the king on horseback, with a 
groom lying dead at his feet, and the Moors fiying.f 

The camp was formed, but the artillery was yet on the road, 
advancing with infinite labor, at the rate of merely a league a 
day ; for heavy rains had converted the streams of the valleys 
into raging torrents, and completely broken up the roads. In 
the mean time, king Ferdinand ordered an assault on the 
suburbs of the city. They were carried, after a sanguinary 
conflict of six hours, in which many Christian cavaliers were 
killed and wounded, and, among the latter, Don Alvaro of 
Portugal, son of the duke of Braganza. The suburbs were 
then fortified towards the city, with trenches and palisades, 
and garrisoned by a chosen force, under Don Fadrique de 
Toledo. Other trenches were digged round the city, and from 
the suburbs to the royal camp, so as to cut off all communica- 
tion with the surrounding country. 

Bodies of troops were also sent to take possession of the 
mountain passes, by which the supplies for the army had to 
be brought. The mountains, however, were so steep and 
^^gged, and so full of defiles and lurking-places, that the 
Moors could sally forth and retreat in perfect security; fre- 
quently swooping down upon Christian convoys, and bearing 
off both booty and prisoners to their strong-holds. Some- 
times the Moors would light fires at night, on the sides of the 
mountains, which would be answered by fires from the watch- 
tov/ers and fortresses. By these signals, they would concert 
assaults upon the Christian camp, which, in consequence, was 

* lUescas, Hist. Pontif . lib. 6, c. 20. Wedmar, Hist. Velez Malaga. t Idem. 



THE CONQUEST OE ORANAJJA. 191 

obliged to be continually on the alert, and ready to fly to 
arms. 

King Ferdinand flattered himself that the manifestation of 
his force had struck siifflcient terror into the city, and that ]:)y 
offers of clemency it might be induced to capitulate. He wrote 
a letter, therefore, to the commanders, promising, in case of 
mimediate surrender, that all the inhabitants should be per- 
mitted to depart with their effects ; but threatening them with 
fire and sword, if they persisted in defence. This letter was 
dispatched by a cavalier named Carvagal, Avho, putting it on 
the end of a lance, gave it to the Moors who were on the walls 
of the city. The commanders replied, that the king was too 
noble and magnanimous to put such a threat in execution, and 
that they should not surrender, as they knew the artillery 
could not be brought to the camp, and they were promised 
succor by the king of Grranada. 

At the same tune that he received this reply, the king learnt 
that at the strong town of Comares, upon a height about two 
leagues distant from the camp, a large nmnber of warriors had 
assembled from the Axarquia, the same mountains in which 
the Christian cavaliers had been massacred in the beginning of 
the war; others were daily expected, for this rugged sierra 
was capable of furnishing fifteen thousand fighting men. 

King Ferdinand felt that his army, thus disjointed, and 
inclosed in an enemy's country, was in a perilous situation, 
and that the utmost discipline and vigilance were necessary. 
He put the camp under the strictest regulations, forbidding all 
gaming, blasphemy, or bi'awl, and expelling all loose women 
and their attendant bully ruffians, the usual fomenters of riot 
and contention among soldiery. He ordered that none should 
sally forth to skirmish, without permission from their com- 
manders ; that none should set fire to the woods on the neigh- 
boring mountains; and that all word of security given to 
Moorish places or individuals, should be inviolably observed. 
These regulations were enforced by severe penalties, and had 
such salutary effect, that, though a vast host of various people 
was collected together, not an opprobrious epithet was heard, 
nor a weapon drawn in quarrel. 

In the mean time, the cloud of war went on, gathering about 
fche summits of the mountains ; multitudes of the fierce war- 
riors of the sierra descended to the lower heights of Bentomiz, 
which overhung the camp, intending to force their way to the 
city. A detachment was sent against them, which, alter sharp 



192 TUK CO^^ QUEST OF Oil AN AD A. 

fighting, drove them to the higher chUs of the mountain, 
where it was impossible to pm-sue them. 

Ten days had elapsed since the encampment of the army, 
yet still the artillery had not arrived. The lombards and 
other heavy ordnance were left in despair, at Antiquera ; the 
rest came groaning slowly through the narrow valleys, which 
were filled with long trains of artillery, and cars laden v/ith 
munitions. At length part of the smaller ordnance arrivec^ 
Y\^ithin half a league of the camp, and the Christians were 
animated with the hopes of soon being able to make a regular 
attack upon the fortifications of the city. 



CHAPTER III. 



HOW KING FERDINAND AND HIS AR1\IY WERE EXPOSED TO 
IMMINENT PERIL BEFORE VELEZ MALAGA, 

While the standard of the cross waved on the hills before 
Yelez Malaga, and every height and cliff bristled with hostile 
arms, the civil war between the factions of the Alhambra and 
the Albaycm, or rather between El Zagal and El Chico, con- 
tinued to convulse the city of Granada. The tidings of the 
investment of Velez IMalaga at length roused the attention of 
the old men and the alfaquis, whose heads were not heated by 
the daily broils. They spread themselves through the city, and 
endeavored to arouse the people to a sense of their common 
danger. 

" Why," said they, "continue these brawls between brethren 
and kindred? what battles are these, where even triumph is 
ignominious, and the victor blushes and conceals his scars? 
Behold the Christians ravaging the land won by the valor and 
blood of your forefathers; dwelling in the houses they have 
built, sitting under the trees they have planted, while your 
brethren wander about, houseless and desolate. Do you wish 
to seek your reaJ foe?— he is encamped on the mountain of | 
Bentoixdz. Do you want a field for the display of your valor 5 
—you will find it before the walls of Velez Malaga. " 

When they had roused the spirit of the people, they made 
their way to the rival kings, and addressed them with like 
remonstrances. Hamet Aben Zarrax, the inspired santon, 
reproached El Zagal with his bhnd and senseless ambition* 



TlIK CONQUKST OF GRANADA. IO3 

"You arc striving to be king," said he, bitterly, "yet suffer 
the kingdom to be lost !" 

El Zagal found himself in a perplexing dilemma. He had a 
double war to wage, —with the enemy without, and the enemy 
witliin. Should the Christians gain possession of the sea-coast, 
it would be ruinous to the kingdom ; should he leave Granada 
to oppose them, his vacant throne might be seized on by his 
nephew. He made a merit of necessity, and, pi-etending to 
yield to the remonstrances of the alfaquis, endeavored to com- 
promise with Boabdil. He expressed deep concern at the daily 
losses of the country, caused by the dissensions of the cai>ilal ; 
an opportunity now presented to retrieve all by a blow. The 
Christians had in a manner put themselves in a tomb between 
the mountains— nothing I'emained but to throw the earth upon 
them. He offered to resign the title of king, to submit to the 
government of his nephew, and fight under his standard ; ail 
he de^red was to hasten to the rehef of Yelez Malaga, and to 
take full vengeance on the Christians. 

Boabdil spurned liis proposition, as the artifice of a hypo- 
crite and a traitor. "How shall I trust a man," said he, 
" who has murdered my father and my kindred by treachery, 
and has repeatedly sought my own life, both by violence and 
stratagem?" 

El Zagal boiled with rage and vexation— but there was no 
time to be lost. He was beset by the alfaquis and the nobles 
of his court; the youthful cavaliers were hot for action, the 
common people loud in their complaints that the richest cities 
were abandoned to the mercy of the enemy. The old warrior 
was naturally fond of fighting; he saw also that to remain 
inactive would endanger both crown and kingdom, whereas a 
successful blow would secure his popularity in Granada. He 
had a much more powerful force than his nephew, having 
lately received reinforcements from Baza, Guadix, and Alme- 
ria ; he could march with a large force, therefore, to the relief 
of Velez Malaga, and yet leave a strong garrison in the Alham- 
bra. He took his measures accordingly, and departed sudden- 
ly in the night, at the head of one thousand horse and twenty 
tliousand foot. He took the most unfrequented roads, along 
the chain of mountains extending from Granada to the height 
of Bentomiz, and proceeded vvith such rapidity as to arrive 
there before king Ferdinand had notice of his approach. 

The Christians were alarmed one evening hj the sudden 
blazing of great fires on the mountains about the fortress of 



19-i THE CONQUEtiT UJi' UliANADA. 

Bentomiz. By the ruddy liglit, they beheld the flash of wea- 
pons and the array of troops, and they heard the distant sound 
of Moorish drums and trumpets. The fires of Bentomiz were 
answered by fires on the towers of Velez Malaga. The shouts 
of "El Zagal! El Zagal!" echoed along the cliffs, and re- 
sounded from the city ; and the Christians found that the old 
warrior king of G-ranada was on the mountain above their 
camp. 

The spirits of the Moors were suddenly raised to a pitch of 
the greatest exultation, while the Christians were astonished 
to see this storm of war ready to burst upon their heads. The 
count de Cabra, with his accustomed eagerness when there was 
a king in the field, would fain have scaled the heights, and 
attacked El Zagel before he had time to form his camp ; but 
Ferdinand, who was more cool and wary, restrained him. To 
attack the height, would be to abandon the siege. He ordered 
every one, therefore, to keep vigilant watch at his post, and to 
stand ready to defend it to the utmost, but on no account to 
sally f oi-th and attack the enemy. 

All night the signal-fires kept blazing along the mountains, 
rousing and ardmating the whole country. The morning sun 
rose over the lofty summit of Bentomiz on a scene of martial 
splendor. As its rays glanced down the mountain, they lighted 
up the white tents of the Christian cavaliers, cresting its lower 
prominences, their pennons and ensigns fluttering in the morn- 
ing breeze. The sumptuous pavilions of the king, with the 
holy standard of the cross and the royal banners of Castile and 
Arragon, dominated the encampment. Beyond lay the city, 
its lofty castle and numerous towers glistening with arms; 
while above all, and just on the profile of the height, in the full 
blaze of the rising sun, were descried the tents of the Moor, his 
burbaned troops clustering about them, and his infidel banners 
floating against the sky. Columais of smoke rose where the 
night-fires had blazed, and the clash of the Moorish cymbal, 
the bray of trumpet, and the neigh of steed, were faintly heard 
from the airy heights. So pure and transparent is the atmos- 
phere in this region, that every object can be distinctly seen 
at a great distance ; and the Christians were able to behold the 
formidable hosts of foes that were gathering on the summits 
of the surrounding mountains. 

One of the first measures of the Moorish king, was to detach 
a large force, under Eodovan de Vanegas, alcayde of Granada, 
to fall upon the convoy of ordnance, which stretched, for a 



TilK CONQUEST OF GRANADA. lOf) 

great distance, thi'Oiigh the mountain defiles. Ferdinand had 
anticipated this attempt, and sent the commander of Leon, 
with a body of horse and foot, to reinforce the Master of 
Alcantara. El Zagal, from his mountain height, beheld the 
detachment issue from the camp, and immediately recalled 
Rodovan de Vanegas. The armies now remained quiet for a 
time, the Moor looking grimly down upon the Christian camp, 
like a tiger meditating a bound upon his prey. The Christians 
were in fearful jeapordy — a hostile city below them, a power- 
ful army above them, and on every side mountains filled with 
implacable foes. 

After El Zagal had maturely considered the situation of the 
Christian camp, and informed himself of all the passes of the 
mountain, he conceived a plan to surprise the enemy, which he 
flattered himself would insure their ruin, and perhaps the cap- 
ture of king Ferdinand. He wrote a letter to the alcayde of 
the city, commanding him, in the dead of the night, on a sig- 
nal-fire being made from the mountain, to sally forth with all 
his troops, and fall furiously upon the Christian camp. The 
king would, at the same time, rush down with his army from 
the mountain, and assail it at the opposite side; thus over- 
whelming it, at the hour of deep repose. This letter he dis- 
patched by a renegado Christian, who knew all the secret 
roads of the country, and, if taken, could pass himself for a 
Christian who had escaped from captivity. 

The fierce El Zagal, confident in his stratagem, looked down 
upon the Christians as his devoted victims. As the sun went 
down, and the long shadows of the mountains stretched across 
the vega, he pointed Avith exultation to the camp below, appar- 
ently unconscious of the impending danger. " Allah Achbar !" 
exclaimed he, "God is great! Behold, the unbelievers are 
delivered into our hands ; their king and choicest chivalry will 
i soon be at our mercy. Now is the time to show the courage 
I of men, and, by one glorious victory, retrieve all that we have 
j lost. Happy he who falls fighting in the cause of the Prophet ! 
! he will at once be transported to the paradise of the faith- 
ful, and surrounded by immortal houris. Happy he who 
shall survive victorious ! He will behold Granada, —an earthly 
paradise!— once more delivered from its foes, and restored to 
all its glory." The words of El Zagal were received with ac- 
clamations by his troops, who waited impatiently for the ap- 
: pointed hour, to pour down from their mountaiia-hold upon 
the Christians. 

I 



196 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 



CHAPTER IV. 

RESULT OF THE STRATAGEM OF EL ZAGAL TO SURPRISE KING 
FERDINAND. 

Queen Isabella and her court had remamed at Cordova, in 
great anxiety for the result of the royal expedition. Every 
day brought tidings of the difficulties which attended the 
transportation of the ordnance and munitions, and of the 
critical state of the army. 

While in this state of anxious suspense, couriers arrived 
with all speed from the frontiers, bringing tidings of the sud- 
den sally of El Zagal from Granada, to surprise the camp. 
All Cordova was in consternation. The destruction of the 
Andalusian cliivalry, among the mountains of this very neigh- 
borhood, was called to mind ; it was feared that similar ruin 
was about to burst forth, from rocks and precipices, upon 
Ferdinand and his army. 

Queen Isabella shared in the public alarm, but it served to 
rouse all the energies of her heroic mind. Instead of uttering 
idle apx^rehensions, she sought only how to avert the danger. 
She called upon all the men of Andalusia, under the age of 
seventy, to arm and hasten to the relief of their sovereign; 
and she prepared to set out with the first levies. The grand 
cardinal of Spain, old Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, in whom 
the piety of the saint and the wisdom of the counsellor were 
mingled with the fire of the cavalier, offered high pay to all 
horsemen who would foUow him to aid their king and the 
Christian cause; and, buckling on armor, prepared to lead 
them to the scene of danger. 

The summons of the queen roused the quick Andalusian 
spirit. "Warriors who had long since given up fighting, and 
had sent their sons to battle, now seized the sv/ord and lance 
that were rusting on the wall, and marshalled forth their 
gray-headed domestics and their grandchildren for the field. 
The great dread v,^as, that aU aid would arrive too late: El 
Zagal and his host had passed like a storm through the mounr 
tains, and it was feared the tempest had already burst upon 
the Christian camp. 

In the mean time, the night had closed which had been 
appointed by El Zagal for the execution of his plan. He had 



THE CONQUEST OF OUAXADA. 107 

watched the last Hght of day expire, and all the Spanisli cainj) 
remained tranquil. As the hours wore away, the camp-lires 
were gradually extinguished. No drum or trumpet sounded 
from below. Nothing was heard, but now and then the dull 
heavy tread of troops, or the echoing tramp of horses— the 
usual patrols of the camp, and the changes of the guards. El 
Zagal restrained his own impatience, and that of his troops, 
until the night should be advanced, and the camp sunk in that 
heavy sleep from which men are with difficulty awakened; 
and, when awakened, so prone to be bewildered and dismayed. 

At length, the appointed hour arrived. By order of the 
Moorish king, a bright flame sprung up from the height of 
Bentomiz; but El Zagal looked in vain for the res})onding 
liglit from the city. His impatience would brook no longer 
delay; he ordered the advance of the army to descend tlie 
mountain defile and attack the camp. The defile was narrow, 
and overhung by rocks: as the troops proceeded, they came 
suddenly, in a shadowy hollow, upon a dark mass of Christian 
warriors. A loud shout burst forth, and the Christians rushed 
to assail them; the Moors, surprised and disconcerted, re- 
treated in confusion to the height. When El Zagal heard 
there was a Christian force posted in the defile, he doubted 
some counter-plan of the enemy. He gave orders to light the 
mountain fires. On a signal given, bright flames sprung out 
on every height, from great pyres of wood, prepared for the 
purpose : chff blazed out after cliff, until the whole atmosphere 
was in a glow of furnace light. The ruddy glare lit up the 
glens and passes of the mountain, and fell sti'ongly upon the 
Christian camp, revealing all its tents and every post and bul- 
wark. Wherever El Zagal turned his eyes, he beheld the light 
of his fires flashed back from cuirass, and helm, and sparkling 
lance ; he beheld a grove of spears planted in every pass, every 
assailable point bristling with arms, and squadrons of horse 
and foot in battle array, awaiting his attack. 

In fact, the letter of El Zagal to the alcayde of Velez Malaga 
had been intercepted by the vigilant Ferdinand ; the renegado 
messenger hanged ; and secret measures taken, after the night 
had closed in, to give the enemy a warm reception. El Zagal 
saw that his plan of surprise was discovered and foiled; 
furious with disappointment, he ordered his troops forward to 
|the attack. They rushed down the defile, but were again en- 
countered by the mass of Christian warriors, being the advance 
guard of the army, connnanded by Don Hurtado de Mendoza. 



198 ^-^^ COJSQUISST OF ORANABA. 

brother of the grand cardinal. The Moors were again re- 
pulsed, and retreated up the height. Don Hurtado would 
have followed them, but the ascent was Gteep and rugged, and 
easily defended by the Moors. A sharp action was kept up, 
through the night, with cross-bows, darts, and arquebusses. 
The cliffs echoed with deafening uproar, while the fires blazing 
upon the mountains threw a lurid and uncertain light upon 
the scene. 

When the day dawned, and the Moors saw that there was 
no co-operation from the city, they began to slacken in their 
ardor: they beheld also every pass of the mountain filled with. 
Christian troops, and began to apprehend an assault in return. 
Just then king Ferdinand sent the marques of Cadiz, with 
horse and foot, to seize upon a height occupied by a battalion 
of the enemy. The marques assailed the Moors with his usual 
intrepidity, and soon put them to flight. The others, who 
were above, seeing their comrades flying, Vv^ere seized with a 
sudden alarm: they threw down their arms, and retreated. 
One of those unaccountable panics, which now and then seize 
upon great bodies of people, and to which the light-spirited 
Moors were very prone, now spread throughout the camp. 
They were terrified, they knew not why, or at what. They 
threw away swords, lances, breast-plates, cross-bows, every 
thing that could burthen or impede their flight; and, spread- 
ing themselves wildly over the mountains, fled headlong down 
the defiles. They fled without pursuers — from the glimpse of 
each other's arms, from the sound of each other's footsteps. 
Eodovan de Vanegas, the brave alcayde of Granada, alone 
succeeded in collecting a body of the fugitives; he made a 
circuit with them through the passes of the mountain, and 
forcing his way across a weak part of the Christian lines, 
galloped towards Velez Malaga. The rest of the Moorish host 
was completely scattered. In vain did El Zagal and his 
knights attempt to rally them; they were loft almost alone, 
and had to consult their own security by flight. 

The marques of Cadiz, finding no opposition, ascended from 
height to height, cautiously reconnoitring, and fearful of 
some stratagem or ambush. All, however, was quiet. He 
reached with his men the place which the Moorish army 
had occupied : the heights were abandoned, and strewed with 
cuirasses, scimitars, cross-bows, and other weapons. His force 
was too small to pursue the enemy, but returned to the royal 
camp laden with the snoils. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. y,)\) 

King Ferdinand, at first, could not credit so sip^iial and mi- 
raculous a defeat : he suspected some lurking stratagem. He 
ordered, therefore, that a strict watch should be maintained 
throughout the camp, and every one be ready for instant 
axition. The following night, a thousand cavaliers and liidal- 
gcs kept guard about the royal tent, as they had done for sev- 
eral preceding nights; nor did the king relax this vigilance, 
until he received certain intelligence that the enemy was com 
pletely scattered and El Zagal flying in confusion. 

The tidings of this rout, and of the safety of the Christian 
army, arrived at Cordova just as reinforcements were on tho 
point of setting out. The anxiety and alarm of the queen and 
the pubUc were turned to transports of joy and gratitude. The 
forces were disbanded, solemn pi'ocessions were made, and te 
deums chanted in the churches, for so signal a victory. 



CHAPTER V. 



HOW THE PEOPLE OF GRANADA REWARDED THE VALOR OP EL 

ZAGAL. 

The daring spirit of the old warrior, Muley Abdallah El Zagal, 
in sallying forth to defend his territories, while he left an 
armed rival in his capital, had struck the people of Granada 
with admiration. They recalled his former exploits, and again 
anticipated some hardy achievement from his furious valor. 
Couriers from the army reported its formidable position on the 
height of Bentomiz. For a time, there was a pause in the 
bloody commotions of the city ; all attention was turned to the 
blow about to be struck at the Christian camp. The same con- 
siderations which diffused anxiety and terror through Cor- 
dova, swelled every bosom with exulting confiden^-e in Gra- 
nada. The Moors expected to hear of another massacre, like 
that in the mountains of Malaga. "El Zagal has again 
entrapped the enemy!" was the cry. "The powder of the un- 
behcvers is about to be struck to the heart. We shall soon sec 
the Christian king led captive to the capital." Thus the name 
of El Zagal was on every tongue. He was extolled as the 
saviour of the country; the only one worthy of wearing the 
Moorish crown. Boabdil was reviled as basely remaining- 



200 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

passive ^vhile his country was invaded; and so violent became 
the clamor of the populace, that his adherents trembled for his 
safety. 

While the people of Granada were impatiently looking out 
for tidings of the anticipated victory, scattered horsemen 
came spurring across the vega. They were fugitives from the 
Moorish army, and brought the first incoherent account of its 
defeat. Every one who attempted to tell the tale of this unac- 
countable panic and dispersion, was as if bewildered by the 
broken recollection of some frightful dream. He knew not 
how or why it came to pass. He talked of a battle in the 
night, among rocks and precipices, by the glare of bale-fires ; 
of multitudes of armed foes in every pass, seen by gleams and 
flashes; of the sudden horror that seized upon the army at 
daybreak; its headlong flight, and total dispersion. Hour 
after hour, the arrival of other fugitives confirmed the story 
of ruin and disgrace. 

In proportion to their recent vaunting, was the humiliation 
that now fell upon the people of Granada. There was a uni- 
versal burst, not of grief, but indignation. They confounded 
the leader with the army — the deserted, with those who had 
abandoned him; and El Zagal, from being their idol, became 
suddenly the object of their execration. He had sacrificed the 
army ; he had disgraced the nation ; he had betrayed the coun- 
try. He was a dastard, a traitor ; he was unworthy to reign ! 

On a sudden, one among the multitude shouted, " Long live 
Boabdil el Chico !" the cry was echoed on all sides, and every 
one shouted, ' ' Long live Boabdil el Chico ! long live the legiti- 
mate king of Granada: and death to aU usurpers !" In the ex- 
citement of the moment, they thronged to the Albaycin ; and 
those who had lately besieged Boabdil with arms, now sur- 
rounded his palace with acclamations. The keys of the city, 
and of all the fortresses, were laid at his feet ; he was borne in 
state to the Alhambra, and once more seated, with all due cere- 
mony, on the throne of his ancestors. 

Boabdil had by this time become so accustomed to be 
crowned and uncrowned by the multitude, that he put no 
groat faith in the duration of their loyalty. He knew that 
he was surrounded by hollow hearts, and that most of the 
courtiers of the Alhambra were secretly devoted to his uncle. 
He ascended the throne as the rightful sovereign, who had 
been dispossessed of it by usurpation ; and he ordered the 
heads of four of the principal nobles to be struck off, who had 



THE CONQUKIST OF GRANADA. 201 

been most zealous in support of the usurper. Executions of 
the kind were matters of course, on any change of Moorish 
government ; and Boabdil was lauded for his moderation and 
humanity, in being content with so small a sacrifice. The 
factions were awed into obedience ; the populace, dehghted with 
any change, extolled Boabdil to the skies; and the name of 
Muley Abdallah El Zagal was for a time a by-word of scorn 
and opprobrium throughout the city. 

Never was any commander more astonished and confounded 
by a sudden reverse of fortune, than El Zagal. The evening 
had seen him with a powerful army at his command, his 
enemy witliin his grasp, and victory about to cover him with 
glory, and to consolidate his power :— the morning beheld him 
a fugitive among the mountains, his army, his prosperity, 
his power, all dispelled, he knew not how- gone hke a dream 
of the night. In vain had he tried to stem the headlong flight 
of the army. He saw his squadrons breaking and dispersing 
among the cliffs of the mountains, until, of all his host, only 
ahandf ul of cavaliers remained faithful to him. With these 
he made a gloomy retreat towards Granada, but with a 
heart full of foreboding. When he drew near to the city, 
he paused on the banks of the Xenel, and sent forth scouts 
to collect intelligence. They returned with dejected coun- 
tenances: "The gates of Granada," said they, "are closed 
against you. The banner of Boabdil floats on the tower of 
the Alhambra." 

El Zagal turned his steed, and departed in silence. He re- 
treated to the town of Almunocar, and from thence to Almeria, 
which xjlaces still remained faithful to him. Restless and un- 
easy at being so distant from the capital, he again changed his 
abode, and repaired to the city of Guadix, within a few leagues 
of Granada. Here he remained, endeavoring to rally his forces, 
and preparing to avail himself of any sudden change in the 
fluctuating politics of the metropolis. 



CHAPTER VI. 

SURRENDER OF VELEZ MALAGA AND OTHER PLACES. 

The people of Velez Malaga had beheld the camp of Muley 
ibdallah El Zagal, covering the summit of Bontomiz, and glit- 
©ring in the last rays of the setting sun. During the ni^ht,they 



202 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

had been alarmed and perplexed by signal-fires on the moun- 
tain, and by the sound of distant battle. When the morning 
broke, the Moorish army had vanished as if by enchantment. 
Wiiile the inhabitants were lost in wonder and conjecture, a 
body of cavalry^ the fragment of the army saved by Rodovan 
de Vanegas, the brave alcayde of Granada, came galloping to 
the gates. The tidings of the strange discomfiture of the host, 
filled the city with consternation ; but Eodovan exhorted the 
people to continue their resistance. He was devoted to El Za- 
gal, and confident in his skill and prowess; and felt assured 
that he would soon collect his scattered forces, and return with 
fresh troops from Granada. The people were comforted by 
the words, and encouraged by the presence, of Rodovan ; and 
they had still a lingering hope that the heavy artillery of the 
Christians might be locked up in the impassable defiles of the 
mountains. This hope was soon at an end. The very next 
day, they beheld long laborious lines of ordnance slowly mov- 
ing into the Spanish camp, lombards, ribadoqumes, catapultas, 
and cars laden with munitions, — while the escort, under the 
brave ^Master of Alcantara, wheeled in great battalions into 
the camp, to augment the force of the besiegers. 

The intelligence that Granada had shut its gates against El 
Zagal, and that no reinforcements were to be expected, com- 
pleted the despair of the inhabitants ; even Rodovan hhnself 
lost confidence, and advised capitulation. 

The terms were arranged between the alcayde and the noble 
count de Cif uentes ; the latter had been prisoner of Rodovan 
at Granada, who had treated him with chivalrous courtesy. 
They had conceived a mutual esteem for each other, and met 
as ancient friends. 

Ferdinand granted favorable conditions, for he was eager to 
proceed against Malaga. The inhabitants were permitted to 
depart vvith their effects, except their arms, and to reside, if 
they chose it, in Spain, in any place distant from the sea. 
One hundred and twenty Christians, of both sexes, were res- 
cued from captivity by the surrender of Velez Malaga, and 
were sent to Cordova, where they were received Avith great ; 
tenderness by the queen and her daughter the Infanta Isa- 
bella, in the famous cathedral, in the midst of pubHc rejoic- 
ings for the victory. 

The capture of Velez Malaga was followed by the surrender 
of Bentomiz, Comares, and all the towns and fortresses of the 
Axarquia, which were strongly 2:arrisoned, and discreet and 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 2013 

valiant cavaliers appointed as their alcaydes. The inhabitants 
of nearly forty towns of the Alpaxarra mountains, also, sent 
deputations to the Castilian sovereigns, taking the oath of 
allegiance as Mudehares, or Moslem vassals. 

About the same time came letters from Boabdil el Chico. 
announcing to the sovereigns the revolution of Granada in 
his favor. He sohcited kindness and protection for the inhab- 
itants who had returned to their allegiance, and for those ol 
all other places which should renounce adherence to his uncle. 
By this means (he observed) the whole kingdom of Granada 
would soon be induced to acknowledge his sway, and would 
be held by him in faithful vassalage to the Castilian crown. 

The Catholic sovereigns complied with liis request. Protec- 
tion was immediately extended to the inhabitants of Granada, 
permitting them to cultivate their fields in peace, and to trade 
with the Christian territories m all articles excepting arms ; 
being provided with letters of surety, from some Christian 
captain or alcayde. The same favor was promised to all other 
places, which, within six months, should renounce El Zagal 
and come under allegiance to the younger king. Should they 
not do so within that time, the sovereigns threatened to make 
war upon them, and conquer them for themselves. This meas- 
ure had a great effect, in inducing many to return to the stan- 
dard of Boabdil. 

Having made every necessary arrangement for the govern- 
ment and security of the newly conquered territory, Ferdi- 
nand turned his attention to the great object of his campaign, 
the reduction of Malaga. 



CHAPTER VII. 

OF THE CITY OF MALAGA, AND ITS INHABITANTS. 

The city of Malaga lies in the lap of a fertile valley, sur- 
rounded by mountains, excepting on the part which lies open 
to the sea. As it was one of the most important, so it was one 
of the strongest, cities of the Moorish kingdom. It was forti- 
fied by walls of prodigious strength, studded with a gi-eat 
number of huge tow^ers. On the land side, it was protected 
by a natural barrier of mountains; and on the other, the 



204 THE CONQUEST OF OEANADA, 

waves of the Mediterranean beat against tlio foundations of 
its massive bulwarks. 

At one end of the city, near the sea, on a high mound, stood 
the Alcazaba or citadel,— a fortress of great strength. Imme- 
diately above this, rose a steep and rocky mount, on the top 
of which, in old times, had been a Pharo or light-house, from 
which the height derived its name of Gibraif aro. * It was at 
present crowned by an immense castle, which, from its lofty 
and cragged situation, its vast walls and mighty towers, was 
deemed impregnable. It communicated with the Alcazaba by 
a covered way, six paces broad, leading down between two 
waUs, along the profile or ridge of the rock. The castle of 
Gibralfaro commanded both citadel and city, and was capable, 
if both were taken, of maintaining a siege. Two large suburbs 
adjoined the city : in the one towards the sea, were the dwell- 
ing-houses of the most opulent inhabitants, adorned with hang- 
ing gardens ; the other, on the land side, was thickly peopled, 
and surrounded by strong wails and towers. 

Malaga possessed a brave and numerous garrison, and the 
common people were active, hardy, and resolute ; but the city 
was rich and commercial, and under the habitual control of 
numerous opulent merchants, who dreaded the ruinous con- 
sequences of a siege. They were little zealous for the warlike 
renown of their city, and longed rather to participate in the 
enviable security of property, and the lucrative privileges of 
safe traffic with the Christian territories, granted to aU places 
which declared for Boabdil. At the head of these gainful citi- 
zens was Ah Dordux, a mighty merchant of uncounted wealth, 
whose ships traded to every part of the Levant, and whose 
word was as a law in Malaga. Ali Dordux assembled the most 
opulent and important of his connnercial brethren, and they 
repaired in a body to the Alcazaba, where they were received 
hj the aicayde, Albozen Connixa, with that deference gener- 
ally shown to men of their great local dignity and power of 
purse. Ali Dordux was ample and stately in his form, and 
iluent and emphatic in his discourse; his eloquence had an 
effect therefore upon the aicayde, as he represented the hope- 
lessness of a defence of Malaga, the misery that must attend a 
siege, and the ruin that must follow a capture by force of 
arms. On the other hand, he set forth the grace that might 
be obtained from the Castilian sovereigns, by an early and 

* A corruption of Gibehfaro; the hill of the h^ht-house. 



rilli: CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 205 

voluntary acknowledgment of Boabdil as king; the peaceful 
possession of their property, and the profitable commerce Avith 
the Christian ports, that would be allowed them. He was sec- 
onded by his weighty and important coadjutors; and the al- 
cayde, accustomed to regard them as the arbiters of the affairs 
Ol the place, yielded to their united counsels. He departed, 
therefore, with all speed, to the Christian camp, empowered to 
arrange a capitulation with the Castilian monarch ; and in the 
mean time, his brother remained in command of the Alcazaba. 

'J'here was at this time, as alcayde, in the old crag-built cas- 
tle of Gibralfaro, a warlike and fiery Moor, an implacable 
enemy of the Christians. This was no other than Hamet Zeli, 
surnamed El Zegri, the once formidable alcayde of Ronda, and 
the terror of its mountains. He had never forgiven the cap- 
ture of his favorite fortress, and panted for vengeance on the 
Christians. Notwithstanding his reverses, he had retained the 
favor of El Zagal, who knew how to appreciate a bold warrior 
of the kind, and had placed him in command of this important 
fortress of Gibralfaro. 

Hamet el Zegri had gathered round him the remnant of his 
band of Gomeres, with others of the same tribe. These fierce 
warriors were nestled, like so many war-hawks, about their 
lofty cliff. They looked down with martial contempt upon the 
commercial city of Malaga, which they were placed to protect ; 
or rather, they esteemed it only for its military importance, 
and its capability of defence. They held no communion with 
its trading, gainful inhabitants, and even considered the garri- 
son of the Alcazaba as their inferiors. War was their pursuit 
and fashion ; they rejoiced in its turbulent and perilous scenes ; 
and, confident in the strength of the city, and, above all, of 
! their castle, they set at defiance the menace of Christian inva- 
sion. There were among them, also, many apostate Moors, 
twho had once embraced Christianity, but had since recanted, 
and had fled from the vengeance of the Inquisition. These 
were desperadoes, who had no mercy to expect, shouM they 
fagain fall into the hands of the enemy. 

Such were the fierce elements of the garrison of Gibralfaro ; 
md its rage may easily be conceived, at hearing that Malaga 
kvas to be given up without a blow ; that they were to sink into 
ZJhristian vassals, under the intermediate sway of Boabdil el 
^hico ; and that the alcayde of the Alcazaba had departed, to 
rrange the terms of capitulation. 

Hamet el Zegri determined to avert, by desperate means, the 



206 THE CONQUEST OF ORANADA. 

threatened degradation. He knew that there was a large 
party in the city faithful to El Zagal, being composed of war- 
like men, who had taken refuge from the various mountain 
towns which had been captured : their feelings were desperate 
as their fortunes, and, like Hamet, they panted for revenge 
upon the Christians. With these he had a secret conference, 
and received assurances of their adherence to him in any meas- 
ures of defence. As to the comisel of the peaceful inhabitants, 
he considered it unworthy the consideration of a soldier ; and 
he spurned at the interference of the wealthy merchant Ah 
Dordux, in matters of warfare. 

" Still," said Hamet el Zegri, "let us proceed regularly." So 
he descended with his Gomeres to the citadel, entered it sud- 
denly, put to death the brother of the alcayde, and such of the 
garrison as made any demur, and then summoned the princi- 
pal inhabitants of Malaga, to deliberate on measures for the 
welfare of the city.* The wealthy merchants again mounted 
to the citadel, excepting Ali Dordux, who refused to obey the 
summons. They entered with hearts filled with awe, for they 
found Hamet surrounded by his grim African guard, and all 
the stern array of military power, and they beheld the bloody 
traces of the recent massacre. 

Hamet el Zegri rolled a dark and searching eye upon the 
assembly. "Who," said he, "is loyal and devoted to Muley 
Abdallah el Zagal?" Every one present asserted his loyalty. 
" Good!" said Hamet; " and who is ready to prove his devo- 
tion to his sovereign, by defending this his important city to 
the last extremity ?" Every one present declared his readiness. 
"Enough!" observed Hamet; "the alcayde Albozen Connixa 
has proved himself a traitor to his sovereign, and to you all; 
for he has conspired to deliver the place to the Christians. It 
behoves you to choose some other commander capable of 
defending your city against the approaching enemy." The 
assembly declared unanimously, that there was no one so: 
worthy of the command as himself. So Hamet el Zegri was 
appointed alcayde of Malaga, and immediately proceeded to 
man the forts and tovv^ers with his partisans, and to make 
every preparation for a desperate resistance. 

Intelligence of these occurrences put an end to the negotia- 
tions between king Ferdinand and the superseded alcayde Al- 
bozen Connixa, and it was supposed there was no alternative 

* Cura de lo3 Palacios, c.j£2. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA, 207 

but to lay sioge to tho place. The marques of Cadiz, howevor, 
found at Velez a Moorish cavalier of some note, a native of 
Malaga, who offered to tamper with Ilamet el Zegri for the 
surrender of the city, or at least of the castle of Gibralfaro. 
The marques communicated this to the king: " I put this busi- 
ness, and the key of my treasury, into your hands," said Fer- 
dmand ; ' ' act, stipulate, and disburse, in my name, as you think 
proper. " 

The marques armed the Moor with his own lance, cuirass, 
and target, and mounted him on one of his own horses. He 
equipped in similar style, also, another Moor, his companion 
and ^elation. They bore secret letters to Hamet from the mar- 
ques, offering him the town oL' Coin in perpetual inheritance, 
and four thousand doblas in gold, if he would deliver up Gib- 
ralfaro ; together with large sums, to be distributed among his 
officers and soldiers : and he offered unlimited rewards for the 
surrender of the city.* 

Hamet had a warrior's admiration of the marques of Cadiz, 
and received liis messengers with courtesy in his fortress of 
Gibralfaro. He even listened to their propositions with pa- 
tience, and dismissed them in safety, though with an absolute 
refusal. The marques thought his reply was not so peremp- 
tory as to discourage another effort. The emissaries were dis- 
patched, therefore, a second time, Avith further propositions. 
They approached Malaga in the night, but found the guards 
doubled, patrols abroad, and the whole place on the alert. 
They \vere discovered, pursued, and only saved themselves by 
the fleetness of their steeds, and their knowledge of the passes 
' of the mountains. 

Finding all attempts to tamper with the faith of Hamet el 
Zegri utterly futile, king Ferdinand publicly summoned the 
city to surrender, offering the most favorable terms in case of 
immediate compliance ; but threatening captivity to all the in- 
habitants, in case of resistance. 

' The message was delivered in presence of the principal in- 
ihabitants, who, however, were too much in awe of the stern 
Ucayde to utter a word. Hamet el Zegri then rose haughtily, 
md replied, that the city of Malaga had not been confided to 
lim to be surrendered, but defended; and the king should 
witness how he acquitted himself of his charge, f 

The messengers returned with formidable accounts of the 



I 



* Cura de Ins Palacios, c. 82. - + Pulsar, part 3, cap. 74. 



208 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

force of the garrison, the strength of the fortifications, and the 
determined spirit of the commander and his men. The king 
immediately sent orders to have the heavy artillery forwarded 
from Antiquera : and, on the 7th of May, marclied with his 
army towards Malaga. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

ADVANCE OF KING FERDINAND AGAINST MALAGA. 

The army of Ferdinand advanced in lengthened line, glitter- 
ing along the foot of the mountains which border the Mediter- 
ranean ; while a fleet of vessels, freighted with heavy artillery 
and warlike munitions, kept pace with it at a short distance 
from the land, covering the sea with a thousand gleaming sails. 
When Hamet el Zegri saw this force approaching, he set fire 
to the houses of the suburbs which adjoined the walls, and 
sent forth three battalions to encounter the advance guard of 
the enemy. 

The Christian army drew near to the city, at that end 
where the castle and rocky height of Gibralfaro defend the sea- 
board. Immediately opposite, at about two bow-shots' distance, 
stood the castle; and between it and the high chain of moun- 
tains, was a steep and rocky liiU, commanding a pass through 
which the Christians must march to penetrate to the vega and 
surround the city. Hamet el Zegri ordered the three battal- 
ions to take their stations, one on this hill, another in the pass 
near the castle, and a third on the side of the mountain near 
the sea. 

A body of Spanish foot-soldiers, of the advance guard, sturdy 
mountaineers of Galhcia, sprang forward to climb the side of 
the height next the sea ; at the same time, a number of cava- 
liers and hidalgos of the royal household attacked the Moors 
who guarded the pass below. The Moors defended their posts 
with obstinate valor. The G-allicians were repeatedly over- 
powered and driven down the hill, but as often rallied, and 
being reinforced by the hidalgos and cavahers, returned to the 
assault. This obstinate struggle lasted for six hours : the strife 
was of a deadly kind, not merely with cross-bows and arque- 
busses, but hand to hand, with swords and daggers ; no quartei* 



THE COKQUKST OF GRAKADA. 209 

was claimed or given, on either side— they fought not to make 
captives, but to slay. It was but the advance of the Christian 
army that was engaged; so narrow was the i>ass along the 
coast, that the army coidd i^roceed only in file : horse and foot, 
and beasts of burden, were crowded one upon another, imped- 
ing each other, and blocking up the narrow and ^'ugged defile. 
The soldiers heard the uproar ol" the battle, the sound of trum 
pets, and the war-cries of the Moors— but tried in vain to prefrH 
forward to the assistance of their companions. 

At length a body of foot-soldiers Oil: the Holy Brotherhood 
climbed, with great difficulty, the steep side of the mountain 
which overhung the pass, and advanced with seven bamiers 
displayed. The Moors, seemg this force above them, aban- 
doned the pass in despair. The battle was still raging on 
the height; the Gallicians, though supported by Castilian 
troops under Don Hurtado de Mendoza and Garcilasso de la 
Vega, were severely pressed and roughly handled by the 
Moors; at length a brave standard-bearer, Luys Mazedo by 
name, threw himself into the midst of the enemy, and planted 
his banner on the summit. The Gallicians and Castilians, 
stimulated by this noble self-devotion, followed him, fighting 
desperately, and the Moors were at length driven to their 
castle of Gibralfaro.* 

Tliis important height being taken, the pass lay open to the 
army ; but by this time evening was advancing, and the host 
was too weary and exhausted to seek proper situations for the 
encampment. The king, attended by several grandees and 
cavaliers, went the rounds at night, stationing outposts to- 
wards the city, and guards and patrols to give the alarm on 
the least movement of the enemy. All night the Christians 
lay upon their arms, lest there should be some attempt to sally 
forth and. attack them. 

When the morning dawned, the king gazed with admiration 
at this city, which he hoped soon to add to his dominions. It 
was surrounded on one side by vineyards, gardens, and 
orchards, which covered the hills with verdure ; on the other 
3ide, its walls were bathed by the smooth and tranquil sea. 
Cts vast and lofty towers and prodigious castles, hoary with 
ige, yet unimpaired in strength, showed the labors of magnani- 
nous men in former tunes to protect their favorite abode. 
Bimging gardens, groves of oranges, citrons, and pome- 

* Pulgar. Cionica. 



210 THE iJUJSqUElST 01< GIIANADA. 

granates, with tall cedars and stately palms, were mingled 
with the stern battlements and towers — besi^eaking the opu- 
lence and luxury that reigned within. 

In the mean time, the Christian army poured tln-ough the 
pass, and, throwing out its columns and extending its lines, 
took possession of every vantage-ground around the city. 
King Ferdinand surveyed the ground, and appointed the 
stations of the different commanders. 

The unportant momit which had cost so violent a struggle, 
and faced the powerful fortress of Gibralfaro, was given in 
charge to Roderigo Ponce de Leon, marques of Cadiz, who, in 
all sieges, claimed the post of danger. He had several noble 
cavaliers with their retainers in his encampment, which con- 
sisted of fifteen hundred horse and fourteen thousand foot; 
and extended from the summit of the mount to the margin of 
the sea, completely blocidng up the approach to the city on 
that side. From this post, a line of encampments extended 
quite round the city to the seaboard, fortified by bulwarks and 
deep ditches; while a fleet of anned ships and galleys stretched 
before the harbor; so that the place was completely mvested, 
by sea and land. The various parts of the valley now re- 
sounded with the din of preparation, and were filled with arti- 
ficers preparing warlike engines and munitions : armorers and 
smiths, with glo^ving forges and deafening hammers; carpenters 
and engineers, constructing machines wherewith to assail the 
walls ; stone-cutters, shaping stone balls for the ordnance ; and 
burners of charcoal, preparing fuel for the furnaces and forges. 

When the encampment was formed, the heavy ordnance was 
landed from the ships, and mounted in various parts of the 
camp. Five huge lombards were placed on the mount com- 
manded by the marques of Cadiz, so as to bear upon the castle 
of Gibralfaro. 

The Moors made strenuous efforts to impede these prepara- 
tions. They kept up a heavy fire from their ordnance, upon 
the men employed in digging trenches or constructing batter- 
ies, so that the latter had to work principally in the night. 
The royal tents had been stationed conspicuously, and within 
reach of the Moorish batteries ; but were so warmly assailed, 
that they had to be removed behind a hill. 

When the works were completed, the Christian batteries 
opened in return, and kept up a tremendous cannonade ; while 
the fleet, approaching the land, assailed the city vigorously on 
the onnosite side. 



THE CONQUEST OF GJiAAAVA. 21 1 

"It was a glorious and delectable siL':ht." observes Fray An- 
tonio Agapida, " to behold this infidel city thus surrounded by 
sea and land, by a mighty Christian force. Every uioiuid in 
its circuit was, as it were, a little city of tents, bearing the stan- 
dard of some renowned Catholic warrior. Beside the warlike 
ships and galleys which lay before the place, the sea was cov- 
ered with innumerable sails, passing and repassing, appearing 
and disappearing, being engaged in bringing supi)lies for the 
subsistence of the army. It seemed a vast spectacle contrived 
to recreate the eye, did not the volleying bursts of fianie and 
smoke from the ships, which seemed to lie asleep on the quiet 
sea, and the thunder of ordnance from camp and city, from 
tower and battlement, tell the deadly warfare that was raging. 

" At night, the scene was far more direful than in the day. 
The cheerful light of the sun was gone ; there Avas nothing but 
the flashes of artillery, or the baleful gleams of combustibles 
thrown into the city, and the conflagration of the houses. The 
fire kept up from the Christian batteries was incessant ; there 
were seven great lombards in particular, called The Seven Sis- 
ters of Ximenes, which did tremendous execution. The Moor- 
ish ordnance replied in thunder from the walls ; Gibralf aro was 
wrapped in volumes of smoke, rolling about its base; and 
Hamet el Zegri and his Gomeres looked out with triumph upon 
the tempest of war they had awakened. Truly they were so 
many demons incarnate," continues the pious Fray Antonio 
Agapida, ' ' who were permitted by Heaven to enter into and 
possess this infidel city, for its perdition." 



CHAPTER IX. 

SIEGE OF MALAGA. 

The attack on Malaga, by sea and land, was kept up for sev- 
eral days with tremendous violence, but without producing any 
gi^eat impression, so strong were the ancient bulwarks of tlie 
city. The count de Cifuentes was the first to signalize himself 
by any noted achievement. A main tower of the suburb had 
been shattered by the ordnance, and the battlements demol- 
ished, so as to yield no shelter to its defenders, Seeing this, 
the count assembled a gallant band of cavaliei-s of the royal 



212 TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

household, and advanced to take it by storm. They applied 
scaling-ladders, and mounted, sword in hand. The Moors, iiav- 
ing no longer battlements to protect them, descended to a lower 
floor, and made furious resistance from the windows and loop- 
holes. They poured down boiling pitch and rosin, and hurled 
stones and darts and arrows on the assailants. Many of the 
Christians were slain, their ladders were destroyed by flaming 
combustibles, and the count was obliged to retreat from before 
the tower. On the following day he renewed the attack with 
superior force, and, after a severe combat, succeeded in plant- 
ing his victorious banner on the tower. 

The Moors now assailed the tower in their turn. They un- 
dermined the part towards the city, placed props of wood under 
the foundation, and, setting fire to them, drew off to a distance. 
In a little while the props gave way, the foundation sunk, and 
the tower was rent ; part of its wall fell, with a tremendous 
noise ; many of the Christians were thrown out headlong, and 
the rest were laid open to the missiles of the enemy. 

By this time, however, a breach had been made in the wall 
adjoining the tower, and troops poured in to the assistance of 
their comrades. A continued battle was kept up, for two days 
and a night, by reinforcements from camp and city. The par- 
ties fought backwards and forwards through the breach of the 
wall, with alternate success ; and the vicinity of the tower was 
strewn with the dead and wounded. At length the Moors gradu- 
ally gave way, disputing every inch of ground, until they were 
driven into the city ; and the Christians remained masters of 
the greater part of the suburb. 

This partial success, though gained with great toil and blood- 
shed, gave temporary animation to the Christians ; they soon 
found, however, that the attack on the main works of the city 
was a much more arduous task. The gariison contained vete- 
rans who had served in many of the towns captured by the 
Christians. They were no longer confounded and dismayed by , 
the battering ordnance and other strange engines of foreign in- 
vention, and had become expert in parrying their effects, in 
repairing breaches, and erecting counter-works. 

The Christians, accustomed of late to speedy conquests of 
Moorish fortresses, became impatient of the slow progress of 
the siege. ^Many were apprehensive of a sca.rcity of provisions, 
from the diflSculty of subsisting so numerous a host in the heart 
of the enemy's country, where it was necessary to transport 
supplies across rugged and hostile mountains, or subjected to 



TllhJ COyqUHST OF OliAiWADA. 213 

the uncertainties of the soa. Many also were alarmed at a pes- 
tilence which broke out in the neighboring villages; and some 
were so oveicome by these apprehensions, as to abandon the 
camp and return to their homes. 

Several of the loose and worthless hangers on that infest all 
great armies, hearing these murnaurs, tliought that the siege 
W(Hild soon be raised, and deserted to the enemy, hoping to 
make their fortunes. They gave exaggerated accounts of the 
alarms and discontents of the army, and represented the troops 
as daily returning home in bands. Above all, they declared 
tliat the gunpowder was nearly exhausted, so tliat the artillery 
would soon be useless. They assured the Moors, therefore, that 
if they persisted a little longer in their defence, the king would 
be obliged to draw off his forces and abandon the siege. 

The reports of these renegadoes gave fresh courage to the 
garrison ; they made vigorous sallies upon the camp, harassing 
it by night and day, and obliging every part to be guarded 
with the most painiul vigilance. They fortified the weak parts 
of their walls with ditches and palisadoes, and gave every 
manifestation of a determined and unyielding spirit. 

Ferdinand soon received intelligence of the reports which had 
been carried to the Moors ; he understood that they had been 
informed, likewise, that the queen was alarmed for the safety 
of the camp, and had written repeatedly urging hun to aban 
don the siege. As the best means of disproving all these false- 
hoods, and of destroying the vain hopes of the enemy, Ferdi- 
nand wrote to the queen, entreatmg her to come and take up 
her residence in the camp. 



CHAPTER X. 

iMEGE OF MALAGA CONTINUED —OBSTINACY OF HAMET EL ZEGI^I. 

Great was the enthusiasm of the army, when they behold 
iheir patriot queen advancing in state, to share the toils and 
langers of her peopV^. Isabella entered the camp, attended l)y 
[he dignitaries and the whole retinue of her court, to manifest 
hat this was no temporary visit. On one side of her was her 
■aughter, the Infanta; on the other, tlie grand cardinal of 
ipain, Hernando de Talavera, the prior of Prado, confessor to 



214 THE COJSqUKST OF GRANADA. 

the queen, followed with a great train of prelates, courtiers, 
cavaUers, and ladies of distinction. The cavalcade moved in 
calm and stately order through the camp, softening the iron 
aspect of war by this array of courtly grace and female beauty. 

Isabella had commanded, that on her coming to the camp, 
the horrors of war should be suspended, and fresh offers of 
peace made to the enemy. On her arrival, therefore, there 
had been a general cessation of firing throughout the camp. 
A messenger was, at the same time, dispatched to the besieged, 
informing them of her being in the camp, and of the determi- 
nation of the sovereigns to make it their settled residence until 
the city should be taken. The same terms were offered, in case 
of immediate surrender, that had been granted to Velez Mal- 
aga ; but the inhabitants were threatened with captivity and 
the sword, should they persist in their defence. 

Hamet el Zegri received this message with haughty con- 
tempt, and dismissed the messenger without deigning a reply. 
'' The Christian sovereigns," said he, "have made this offer in 
consequence of their despair. The silence of their batteries 
proves the truth of what has been told us, that their powder is 
exliausted. They have no longer the means of demolishing 
our walls ; and if they remain much longer, the autumnal rains 
will interrupt their convoys, and fill their camp with famine 
and disease. The first storm will disperse their fleet, which 
has no neighboring port of shelter : Africa will then be open to 
us, to procure reinforcements and supplies." 

The words of Hamet el Zegri were hailed as oracular, by his 
adherents. Many of the peaceful part of the community, how- 
ever, ventured to remonstrate, and to implore hun to accept 
the proffered mercy. The stern Hamet silenced them with a 
terrific threat : he declared, that whoever should talk of capitu- 
lating, or should hold any communication with the Christians, 
should be put to death. The fierce Gomeres, like true men of 
the sword, acted upon the menace of their chieftain as upon a 
written law, and having detected several of the inhabitants in 
secret correspondence with the enemy, they set upon and slew 
them, and then confiscated their effects. This struck such ter- 
ror into the citizens, that those who had been loudest in their 
murmurs became suddenly mute, and were remarked as evinc- 
ing the greatest bustle and alacrity m the defence of the city. 

When the messenger returned to the camp, and reported the 
contemptuous reception of the royal message, king Ferdinand 
was exceedingly indignant. Finding the cessation of firing, on 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 215 

the queen's arrival, had encouraged a belief among the enemy 
that there was a scarcity of powder in the camp, he ordered a 
general discharge from all the batteries. The sudden burst of 
war from every quarter soon convinced the Moors of their 
error, and completed the confusion of the citizens, who knew 
not which most to dread, their assailants or their defenders, 
the Christians or tlie Gomeres. 

That evening the sovereigns visited the encampment of the 
marques of Cadiz, wnich commanded a view over a great part 
of the city and the camp. The tent of the marques was of 
great magnitude, furnished with hangings of rich ,jrocade and 
French cloth of the rarest texture. It was in the oriental 
style; and, as it crowned the height, with the surrounding 
tents of other cavaliers, all sumptuously furnished, presented 
a gay and silken contrast to the opposite towers of Gibralfaro. 
Here a splendid collation was served up to the sovereigns ; and 
the courtly revel that prevailed in this chivalrous encamp- 
ment, the glitter of pageantry, and the bursts of festive music, 
made more striking the gloom and silence that reigned over 
the Moorish castle. 

The marques of Cadiz, while it was yet light, conducted his 
royal visitors to every point that commanded a view of the 
warlike scene below. He caused the heavy" lombards also to 
be discharged, that the queen and ladies of the court might 
witness the effect of those tremendous engines. The fair 
dames were filled with awe and admiration, as the mountain 
shook beneath their feet with the thunder of the artillery, and 
they beheld great fragments of the Moorish walls tumbling 
dow^n the rocks and precipices. 

While the good marques was displaying these tilings to liis 
royal guests, he lifted up his eyes, and to his astonishment be- 
held his own banner hanging out from the nearest tower of 
Gibralfaro. The blood mantled in his cheek, for it was a ban- 
ner which he had lost at the time of the memorable massacre 
of the heights of Malaga.* To make this taunt more evident, 
several of the Gomeres displayed themselves upon the battle- 
ments, arrayed in the helmets and cuirasses of some of the 
cavaliers slain or captured on that occasion. The marques of 
Cadiz restrained his indignation, and held his peace; but sev- 
eral of liis cavahers vowed loudly to revenge this cruel bi'a- 
vado, on the ferocious garrison of Gibralfaro. 

* Diego de Valcra. Cronica, MS. 



216 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

CHAPTER XI. 

ATTACK OF THE MARQUES OF CADIZ UPON GIBRALFARO. 

The marques of Cadiz was not a cavalier that readily for- 
gave an injury or an insult. On the morning after the royal 
banquet, his batteries opened a tremendous fire upon Gibral- 
faro. All day, the encampment was Avrapped in wreaths of 
smoke ; nor did the assault cease with the day — but, through- 
out the night, there was an incessant flashing and thundering 
of the lombards, and, the following morning, the assault rather 
increased than slackened in fury. The Moorish bulwarks were 
no proof against those formidable engines. In a few days, the 
lofty tower on which the taunting banner had been displayed, 
was shattered ; a smaller tower in its vicinity reduced to ruins, 
and a gieat breach made in the intervening walls. 

Several of the hot-spirited cavaliers were eager for storming 
the breach, sword in hand ; others, more cool and wary, pointed 
out the rashness of such an attempt ; for the Moors had worked 
indef atigably in the night ; they had digged a deep ditch within 
the breach, and had fortified it with palisadoes and a high 
breastwork. All, however, agreed that the camp might safely 
be advanced near to the ruined walls, and that it ought to be 
done so, in return for the insolent defiance of the enemy. \ 

The marques of Cadiz felt the temerity of the measure, but | 
he was unwilling to dampen the zeal of these high-spirited \ 
cavaliers ; and having chosen the post of danger in the camp, j 
it did not become him to decluie any service, merely because ; 
it might appear perilous. He ordered his outposts, therefore, | 
to be advanced within a stone's-throw of the breach, but ex- 
horted the soldiers to maintain the utmost vigilance. 

The thunder of the batteries had ceased; the troops, ex- 
hausted by two nights' fatigue and watchfulness, and appre- I 
bending no danger from the dismantled walls, were half of \ 
them asleep ; the rest were scattered about in negligent secu- 
rity. On a sudden, upwards of two thousand Moors sallied 
forth from the castle, led on by Alrahan Zenete, the principal 
captain under Hamet. They fell with fearful havoc upon the 
advanced guard, slaying many of them in their sleep, and 
putting the rest to headlong flight. 

The marques was in his tent, about a bow-shot distance. 



THE CONQUEST OF RAN AD A. 217 

when he heard the tumult of the onset, and beheld his men 
flying in confusion. He rushed forth, followed by his stan- 
dard-bearer. "Turn again, cavaliers !" exclaimed he; "lam 
here. Ponce de Leon ! to the foe ! to the foe !" The flying troops 
stopped at hearing his well-known voice, ralUed under his ban- 
ner, and turned upon the enemy. The encampmenv, by tliis 
'vime, was roused ; several cavaliers from the adjoining stations 

lad hastened to the scene of action, with a number of Gal- 
icians and soldiers of the Holy Brotherhood. An obstinate 
and bloody contest ensued; the mggedness of the place, the 
rocks, chasms, and declivities, broke it into numerous com- 
bats : Christian and Moor fought hand to hand, with swords 
and daggers; and often, grappling and struggling, rolled to- 
gether down the precipices. 

The banner of the marques was in danger of being taken: he 
hastened to its rescue, followed by some of his bravest cava- 
liers. They were surrounded by the enemy, and several of 
them cut down. Don Diego Ponce de Leon, brother to the 
marques, was wounded by an arrow ; and his son-in-law^, Luis 
Ponce, was likewise wounded: they succeeded, however, in 
rescuing the banner, and bearing it off in safety. The battle 
lasted for an hour; the height was covered with killed and 
wounded, and the blood flowed in streams down the rocks ; at 
length, Alrahan Zencte being disabled by the thrust of a lance, 
the Moors gave way and retreated to the castle. 

They now opened a galling fire from their battlements and 
towers, approacliing the breaches so as to discharge their cross- 
bows and arquebusses into the advanced guard of the encamp- 
ment. The marques was singled out ; the shot fell thick about 
him, and one passed through his buckler, and struck upon his 
cuirass, but without doing him any injury. Every one now 
saw the danger and inutility of approaching the camp thus 
Qear to the castle ; and those avIio had counselled it, were now 
i^jrgent that it should be withdrawn. It was accordingly 
^^emoved back to its original ground, from which the marques 

lad most reluctantly advanced it. Nothing but his valor and 

.imely aid had prevented this attack on his outpost from end- 

ng in a total rout of all that part of the army. 
Many cavaliers of distinction fell in this contest ; but the loss 

)f none was felt more deeply than that of Ortega de Prado, 

fptain of escaladors. He was one of the bravest men in the 
pvice ; the same Avho had devised the first successful bloAv of 



218 THE CONQUEST OF GEANAUA, 

plant and mount the scaling-ladders. He had always been 
high in the favor and confidence of the noble Ponce de Leon, 
who knew how to appreciate and avail himself of the merits 
of ail able and vahant men.* 



CHAPTER XII. 

SIEGE OF MALAGA CONTINUED— STRATAGEMS OF VARIOUS KINDS. , 

Great were the exertions now made, both by the besiegers 
and the besieged, to carry on this contest with the utmost 
vigor. Hamet el Zegri went the rounds of the walls and 
towers, doubling the guards, and putting every thing in the 
best posture of defence. The garrison was divided into parties 
of a hundred, to each of which a captain was appointed. Some 
were to patrol, others to sally forth and skirmish with the 
enemy, and others to hold themselves armed and in reserve. 
Six albatozas, or floating batteries, were manned and armed 
with pieces of artillery, to attack the fleet. 

On the other hand, the Castilian sovereigns kept open a com- 
munication by sea with various parts of Spain, from which 
they received provisions of all kinds; they ordered supplies of 
X^owder also from Valencia, Barcelona, Sicily, and Portugal. 
They made great preparations a,lso for storming the city. 
Towers of wood were constructed, to move on wheels, each 
capable of holding one hundred men ; they were furnished with 
ladders, to be thrown from their summits to the tops of the 
walls ; and within those ladders, others were encased, to be let 
down for the descent of the troops into the city. There were 
gallipagos or tortoises, also, being great wooden shields, 
covered with hides, to protect the assailants, and those who 
undermined the walls. 

Secret mines were commenced in various places ; some were 
intended to reach to the foundations of the walls, which were 
to be propped up with wood, ready to be set on fire ; others 
were to pass under the walls, and remain ready to be broker 
open so as to give entrance to the besiegers. At these minet . 
the army worked day a.nd night ; and during these secret pre . 
parations, the ordnance kept up a fire upon the city, to diver; 
the attention of the besieged. 

* Zurita. Mariana. Abarca. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 219 

In the mean time, Hamet el Zegri displayed wonderful vigor 
and ingenuity in defending the city, and in repairing or forti- 
fying, by deep ditches, the breaches made by the enemy. He 
noted, also, every place where the camp might be assailed with 
advantage, and gave the besie;2;ing army no repose night or 
day. While his troops sallied on the land, his floating bat- 
teries attacked the besiegers on the sea : so that there was in- 
cessant skirmishing. The tents called the Queen's Hospital 
were crowded with wounded, and the whole army suffered 
from constant watchf idness and fatigue. To guard against the 
sudden assaults of the Moors, the trenches were deepened, and 
pahsadoes erected in front of the camp ; and in that part fac- 
ing Gibralfaro, where the rocky heights did not admit of such 
defences, a high rampart of earth was thrown up. The cava- 
liers Garcilasso de la Vega, Juan de Zuiiiga, and Diego de 
Atayde, were appointed to go the roimds, and keep vigilant 
watch that these fortifications were maintained in good order. 
In a little while, Hamet discovered the mines secretly com- 
menced by the Christians: h-e immediately ordered counter- 
mines. The soldiers mutually worked until they met, and 
fought hand to hand, in these subterranean passages. The 
Christians were driven out of one of their mines ; fire was set 
to the wooden framework, and the mine destroyed. Encour- 
aged by this success, the Moors attempted a general attack 
upon the camp, the mines, and the besiegmg fleefc. Tlie battle 
lasted for six hours, on land and water, above and below 
ground, on bidv>rark, and in trench and mine ; the Moors dis- 
played wonderful intrepidity, but were finally repulsed at all 
points, and obliged to retire into the city, where they were 
closely invested, without the means of receiving any assistance 
from abroad. 

The horrors of famine were now added to the other miseries 
of Malaga. Hamet el Zegri, with the spirit of a man bred up 
to war, considered every thing as subservient to the wants of 
the soldier, and ordered all the grain in the city to be gathered 
and garnered up for the sole use of those who fought. Even 
this was dealt out sparingly, and each soldier received four 
ounces of bread in the morning, and two in the evening, for 

■ his daily allowance. 

[ The wealthy inhabitants, and all those peacefully inclined, 
mourned over a resistance which brought destruction upon 

• their houses, death into their families, and which they saw 
must end in their ruin and captivity : stiU none of them dared 



220 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

to speak openly of capitulation, or even to manifest their grief, 
lest they should awaken the wrath of their fierce defenders. 
They surrounded their civic champion, Ali Dordux, the great 
and opulent merchant, who had buckled on shield and cuirass, 
and taken spear in hand, for the defence of his natifve city, 
and, with a large body of the braver citizens, had charge of 
one of the gates and a considerable portion of the walls. Draw- 
ing Ali Dordux aside, they poured forth their griefs to him in 
secret. " Why," said they, " should we suffer our native city 
to be made a mere bulwark and fighting-place for foreign bar- 
barians and desperate men? They have no families to care for, 
no property to lose, no love for the soil, and no value for their 
lives. They fight to gratify a thirst for blood or a desire for 
revenge, and will fight on until Malaga becomes a ruin and its 
people slaves. Let us think and act for oiu-selves, our wives, 
and our children. Let us make private terms with the Chris- 
tians before it is too late, and save ourselves from destruction." 

The bowels of Ali Dordux yearned towards his fellow-citizens ; 
he bethought him also of the sweet security of peace, and the 
bloodless yet gratifying triumphs of gainful traffic. The idea' 
also of a secret negotiation or bargain with the CastiHan sover- 
eigns, for the redemption of his native city, was more conform- 
able to his accustomed habits than this violent appeal to arms ;. 
for though he had for a time assumed the warrior, he had not 
forgotten the merchant. Ali Dordux communed, therefore, 
with the citizen-soldiers under his command, and they readily 
conformed to his opinion. Concerting together, they wrote a 
proposition to the Castihan sovereigns, offering to admit the 
army mto the part of the city intrusted to their care, on receiv- 
ing assurance of protection for the lives and properties of the 
inhabitants. This writing they delivered to a trusty emissaiy 
to take to the Christian camp, appointing the hour and place 
of his return, that they might be ready to admit him unper- 
ceived. 

The Moor made his way in safety to the camp, and was 
admitted to the presence of the sovereigns. Eager to gain the 
city without further cost of blood or treasure, they gave a ; 
Avritten promise to grant the conditions; and the Moor set out 
joyfully on his return. As he approached the walls where All 
Dordux and his confederates were waiting to receive him, he 
was descried by a patroUing band of Gomeres, and considered 
a spy coming from the camp of the besiegers. They issued 
forth and seized hun, in sight of his employers, who gave them- 



THE CONQUEST OF GRAXADA. 22] 

selves up for lost. The Gomeres had conducted him nearly to 
the gate, when he escaped from their grasp and fled. They en- 
deavored to overtake him, but were encumbered ,with armor ; 
he was lightly clad, and fled for his hfe. One of the Gomeres 
paused, and, levellmg his cross-bow, let fly a bolt, whi('h 
pierced the fugitive between the shoulders ; he fell, and was 
nearly within their grasp, but rose again, and with a desperate 
e-Tort attained t^ie Christian camp. The Gomeres gave over the 
pursuit, and the citizens returned thanks to Allah for their de- 
liverance from this fearful peril. As to the faithful messenger, 
he died of his wound shortly after reaching the camp, consoled 
with the idea that he had preserved the secret and the hves of 
his employers. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

SUFFERINGS OF THE PEOPLE OF MALAGA. 

The sufferings of Malaga spread sorrow and anxiety among 
the ]\ioors ; and they dreaded lest this beautiful city, once the 
bulwark of the kingdom, should fall into the hands of the un- 
believers. The old warrior king, Abdallah el Zagal, was still 
sheltered in Guadix, where he was slowly gathering together 
his shattered forces. When the people of Guadix heard of the 
danger and distress of Malagi, they urged to be led to its 
relief ; and the alf aqids admonished El Zagal not to desert so 
righteous and loyal a city, in its cxtremitj^. His own warlike 
nature made him feel a sympathy for a place that made so gal- 
lant a resistance : and he dispatched as powerful a reinforce- 
ment as he could spare, under conduct of a chosen captain, 
Avith orders to throw themselves into the city. 
: IntelUgence of this rein /orcement reached Boabdil el Chico, in 
his royal palace of the Alhambra. Filled with hostility against 
hi3 uncle, and desirous of proving his loyalty to the Castilian 
sovereigns, he immediately sent forth a superior force of hoi'se 
and foot, imder an able commander, to intercept the detach- 
ment. A sharp conflict ensued ; the troops of El Zi>.gal were 
ironted with great loss, and fled back in confusion to Guadix. 
I Boabdil, not being accustomed to victories, was flushed with 
his melanclioly triumph. He sent tidings of it to the Cnstilian 
sovereisns. accomnanied with rich silks, boxes of Arabian per- 



222 THE CONQUEST OB' GKAJSAUA. 

fume, a cup of gold, richly wrought, and a. female captive of 
Ubeda, as presents to the queen ; and four Arabian steeds mag- 
nificently caparisoned, a sword and dagger richly mounted, 
and several albornozes and other robes sumptuously embroi- 
dered, for the king. He entreated them at the same time, 
always to look upon him with favor as their devoted vassal. 

Boabdil was fated to be unfortunate even in liis victories. 
His defeat of the forces of his uncle, destined to the x-elief of 
unhappy Malaga, shocked the feelings and cooled the loyalty 
of many of his best adherents. The mere men of traffic might 
rejoice in their golden interval of peace ; but the chivalrous 
spirits of Granada spurned a security purchased by such sacri- 
fices of pride and affection. The people at large, having grati- 
fied their love of change, began to question whether they had 
acted generously by their old fighting monarch. " El Zagal," 
said they, '' was fierce and bloody, but then he was true to his 
country ; he was an usurper, it is true, but then he maintained 
tlie glory of the crown which he usurped. If liis sceptre was a 
rod of iron to his subjects, it was a sword of steel against their 
enemies. This Boabdil sacrifices religion, friends, country, 
every thing, to a mere shadow of royalty, and is content to hold 
a rush for a sceptre." 

These facetious murmurs soon reached the ears of BoaMil, 
and he apprehended another of his customary reverses. He 
sent in all haste to the Castihan sovereigns, beseeching military 
aid to keep him on his throne. Ferdinand graciously complied 
with a request so much in unison with his policy. A detach- 
ment of one thousand cavalry, and two thousand infantry, was 
sent, under the command of Don Fernandez Gonsal'^o of Cor- 
dova, subsequently renowned o,s the great captain. With this 
succor, Boabdil expelled from the city all those who were hos- j 
tile to him, and in favor of his uncle. He felt secure in these 
troops, from their being distinct in manners, language, and re- 
ligion, from his subjects ; and compromised with his pride, in 
thus exhibiting that most unnatural and humiliating of all 
regal spectacles, a monarch supported on his throne by foreign 
weapons, and by soldiers hostile to his people. 

Nor was Boabdil el Chico the only Moorish sovereign that 
sought protection from Ferdinand and Isabella. A splendid 
galley, with latine sails, and several banks of oars, displaying 
the standard of the crescent, but likewise a white flag in sign 
of amity, came one do.y into the harbor. An ambassador 
landed from it. within the Christian linos. Ho came from the 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 223 

king of Tremezan, and brought presents similar to those of 
Boabdil, consisting of Arabian coursers, with bits, stiri'ups, 
and other furniture of gold, together with costly ]\Iooris]i man- 
tles: for the queen, there were sumptuous shawls, robes, and 
silken stuffs, ornaments of gold, and exquisite oriental per- 
fumes. 

The king of Tremezan had been alarmed at the rapid con- 
quests of the Spanish arms, and startled by the descent of 
several Spanish cruisers on the coast of Africa. He craved to 
be considered a vassal to the Castilian sovereigns, and that 
they would extend such favor and security to his ships and 
subjects as had been shown to other floors who had submitted 
to their sway. He requested a painting of their arms, that he 
and his subjects might recognize and respect their standard, 
whenever they encountered it. At the tame time he implored 
their clemency towards unhappy Malaga, and that its inliabi- 
tants might experience the same favor that had been shown 
towards the Moors of other captured cities. 

The embassy was graciously received by the Christian sove- 
reigns. They granted the protection required ; ordering their 
commanders to respect the flag of Tremezan, unless it should 
be found rendering assistance to the enemy. They sent also 
to the Barbary monarch their royal arms, moulded in escutch- 
eons of gold, a hand's-breadth in size.* 

While thus the chances of assistance from w-ithout daily de- 
creased, famine raged in the city. The inhabitants were com- 
pelled to eat the flesh of horses, and many died of hunger. 
What made the sufferings of the citizens the more intolerable, 
was, to behold the sea covered with ships, daily arriving with 
provisions for the besiegers. Day after day, also, they saw 
herds of fat cattle, and flocks of sheep, driven into the camp. 
Wheat and flour were piled in huge mounds in the centre of 
the encampments, glaring in the sunshine, and tantalizing the 
wretched citizens, who, while they and their children were 
perishing with hunger, beheld prodigal abundance reigning 
within a bow-shot of their walls. 



* Cura de los Palacios, c. 84. Pulgar, part 3, c. 86. 



224 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



I 



HOW A MOORISH SANTON UNDERTOOK TO DELIVER THE CITY OF 
MALAGA FROM THE POWER OF ITS ENEMIES. 

There lived at this time, in a hamlet in the neighborhood of 
Guadix, an ancient Moor, of the name of Abrahin Algerbi. 
He was a native of Guerba, in the kingdom of Tunis, and had 
for several years led the life of a santon or hermit. The hot 
sun of Africa had dried his blood, and rendered him of an ex- 
alted yet melancholy temperament. He passed most of his 
time in meditation, prayer, and rigorous abstinence, until his 
body was wasted and his mind bewildered, and he fancied him- 
self favored with divine revelations. The Moors, who have a 
great reverence for all enthusiasts of the kind, looked upon 
him as inspired, listened to all his ravings as veritable prophe- 
cies, and denominated him el sa7ito, or the saint. 

The woes of the kuigdom of Granada had long exasperated 
the gloomy spirit of this man, and he had beheld with indigna- 
tion this beautiful country wrested from the dominion of the 
faithful, and becoming a prey to the imbelievers. He had 
implored the blessings of Allah on the troops which issued 
forth from Guadix for the relief of Malaga; but when he saw 
them return, routed and scattered by their own countrymen, 
he retired to his cell, shut himself up from the world, and was 
plunged for a time in the blackest melancholy. 

On a sudden, he made his appearance again in the streets of 
Guadix, his face haggard, his form emaciated, but his eye 
beaming with fire. He said that Allah had sent an angel to 
him in the solitude of his cell, revea-ling to him a mode of de- 
livering Malaga from its perils, and striking horror and con- 
fusion into the camp of the unbelievers. The Moors listened 
with eager credulity to his words : four hundred of theun of- 
fered to follow him even to the death, and to obey implicitly 
his commands. Of this number many were Gomeres, anxious 
to relieve their countrymen, who formed part of the garrison 
of Malaga. 

They traversed the kingdom by the wild and lonehf passes 
of the mountains, concealing themselves in the day and travel- 
ling only in the night, to elude the Christian scouts. At length 
they arrived at the mountains which tower above Malaga, and> 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 225 

looking down, beheld the city completely invested ; a cliain of 
encampments extending roimd it from shore to shore, and i\ 
line of ships blockading it by sea ; while the continual thunder 
of artillery, and the smoke rising in various parts, showed tliat 
the siege was pressed with great activity. The hennit scaimed 
the encampments warily, ii'om his lofty height. He saw that 
the part of the encampment of the marques of Cadiz which 
was at the foot of the height, and on the margin of the se)a, 
was most assailable, the rocky soil not admitting ditches or 
palisadoes. Remaining concealed all day, he descended with 
his followers at night to the sea-coast, and approached silently 
to the outworks. He had given them their insti*uctions ; they 
were to rush suddenly upon the camp, fight their way through, 
and throw themselves into the city. 

It was just at the gray of the dawning, when objects are 
obscurely \isible, that they made this desperate attempt. 
Some sj^rang suddenly upon the sentinels, others rushed into 
the sea and got round the works, others clambered over the 
breastworks. There was sharp skirmishing; a great part of 
the Moors were cut to pieces, but about two hundred succeeded 
in getting into the gates of Malaga. 

The santon took no part in the conflict, nor did he endeavor 
to enter the city. His plans were of a different nature. Draw- 
ing apart from the battle, he threw himself on his knees on a 
rising ground, and, lifting his hands to Heaven, appeared to 
be absorbed in prayer. The Christians, as they were search- 
ing for fugitives in the clefts of the rocks, found him at his de- 
votions. He stirred not at their approach, but remained fixed 
as a statue, without changing color or moving a muscle. 
Filled with surprise not un mingled with awe, they took him 
to the marques of Cadiz. He Avas wrapped in a coarse albor- 
noz, or ]\Ioorish mantle ; his beard was long and grizzled, and 
there was something wild and melancholy in his look, that in- 
spired curiosity. On being examined, he gave himself out as 
a saint to whom Allah had revealed the events that were to 
take place in that siege. The marques demanded when and 
how Malaga was to be taken. He replied that he knew fiQl 
well, but he was forbidden to reveal those important secrets 
except to the king and queen. The good marques was not 
more given to superstitious fancies than other commanders of 
his tim.e, yet there seemed something singular and mysterious 
about this man ; ho might have some important intelligence to 
communicate; so he was persuaded to send him to the king 




226 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

and queen. He was conducted to the royal tent, surrounded 
by a curious multitude, exclaiming " El Moro Santo /" for tne 
news had spread through the camp, that they had taken a 
Moorish prophet. 

The king, having dined, was taking his siesta, or afternoon's 
sleep, in his tent; and the queen, though curious to see this 
singular man, yet, from a natural delicacy and reserve, delayed 
until the king should be present. He was taken therefore to 
an adjoining tent, in which were Dona Beatrix de Bovadilla, 
marchioness of Moya, and Don Alvaro of Portugal, son of the 
duke of Braganza, with two or three attendants. The Moor, 
ignorant of the Spanish tongue, had not understood the con- 
versation of the guards, and supposed, from the magiiificence 
of the furniture and the silken hangings, that this was the 
royal tent. From the respect paid by the attendants to Don 
Alvaro and the marchioness, he concluded that they were the 
king and queen. 

He now asked for a draught of water ; a jar was brought to 
him, and the guard released his arm to enable him to drink. 
The marchioness perceived a sudden change in his countenance, 
and something sinister in the expression of his eye, and shifted 
her position to a more remote part of the tent. Pretending to 
raise the water to his lips, the Moor unfolded his albornoz, so 
as to grasp a scimitar which he wore concealed beneath ; then, 
dashing down the jar, he drew his weapon, and gave Don 
Alvaro a blow on the head, that struck him to the earth, and 
nearly deprived him of life. Turning then upon the marchion- 
ess, he made a violent blow at her ; but in his eagerness and 
agitation, his scimitar caught in the drapery of the tent ; the 
force of the blow was broken, and the weapon struck harmless 
upon some golden ornaments of her head-dress.* 

Euy Lopez de Toledo, treasurer to the queen, and Juan de 
Belalcazar, a sturdy friar, who were present, grappled and 
struggled with the desperado; and immediately the guards, 
who had conducted him from the marques de Cadiz, fell upon 
him and cut him to pieces, f 

The king and queen, brought out of their tents by the noise, 
were filled with horror vv^hen they learned the iinminent peril 
from which they had escarped. The mangled body of the Moor 
was taken by the people to the camp, and thrown into the city 
from a catapult. Tlie Gomeres gathered up the body with deep 



* Pietro Martyr, Epist. G2, — + Cura de los Palanios 



I 



THE CONQUEST OF a RAN AD A. 257 

reverence, as the remains of a sc-int; they washed and per- 
fumed it, and buried it with great honor and loud lamentations. 
In revenge of his death, they slew one of their principal Chris- 
tian captives, and, havmg tied his body upon an ass, they drove 
the animal forth into the camp. 

From this time, there v/as appointed an additional guard 
around the tents of the king and queen, composed of twelve 
hundred cavaliers of rank, of the kingdoms of Castile and 
Arragon. No person was admitted to the royal presence ai-med ; 
no Moor was allowed to enter the camp, without a previous 
knowledge of his character and business; and on no account 
was any Moor to be introduced into the presence of the sover- 
eigns. 

An act of treachery of such ferocious nature, gave rise to a 
train of gloomy apprehensions. There were many cabins and 
sheds about the camp, constructed of branches of trees which 
had become dry and combustible ; and fears were entertained 
I fchat they might be set on fire by the Mudcxares, or Moorish 

I' vassals, who visited the army. Some even dreaded that at- 
tempts might be made to poison the wells and fountains. To 
quiet these dismal alarms, all Mudexares were ordered to leave 
the camp ; and all loose, idle loiterers, who could not give a 
Igood account of themselves, were taken into custody. 



CHAPTER XV. 



HOW HAMET EL ZEGRT WAS HARDENED IN HIS OBSTINACY, BY 
THE ARTS OF A MOORISH ASTROLOGER. 

Among those followers of the santon that had effected their 
intrancc into the city, was a dark African of the tribe of the 
iJomores, who Vv^as likewise a heiTiiit or dervise, and passed 
imong the Moors for a holy and inspired man. No sooner 
'■ere the mangled remains of his predecessor buried with the 
onors of martyrdom, than this dervise elevated himself in his 
lace, and professed to be gifted with the spirit of prophecy. 
le displayed a white banner, v/hich, he assured tlie ]\Ioors, was 
red ; tha,t he had retained it for twenty years for some signal 
pose, and that iVllah had i-evealcd to him that under that 
er the inhabitants of Malaga should sally forth upon the 



228 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

camp of the unbelievers, put it to utter rout, and banquet upon 
the provisions in which it abounded.* The hungry and credu- 
lous Moors were elated at this prediction, and cried out to be 
led forth at once to the attack ; but the dervise told them the 
time Avas not yet arrived, for every event had its allotted day in 
the decrees of fate ; they must wait i^atiently, therefore, until ' 
the appointed tmie should be revealed to him by Heaven, 
Hamet el Zegri listened to the dervise with profound reverence, 
and his example had great effect in increasing the awe audi 
deference of his followers. He took the holy man up into his 
strong-hold of Gibralfaro, consulted him on all occasions, and 
hung out his white banner on the loftiest tower, as a signal of i 
encouragement to the people of the city. 

In the mean time, the prime chivalry of Spain was gradually 
assembling before the walls of Malaga. The army which had 
commenced the siege had been worn out by extreme hardships, 
having had to construct immense works, to dig trenches and 
mines, to mount guard by sea and land, to patrol the moxin 
tains, and to sustain incessant conflicts. The sovereigns were 
obliged, therefore, to call upon various distant cities, for rein- 
forcements of horse and foot. Many nobles, also, assembled 
their vassels, and repaired, of their own accord, to the royal 
camp. 

Every little while, some stately galley or gallant caravelj 
woidd stand into the harbor, displaying the well-known banner; 
of some Spanish cavalier, and thundering from its artillery a| 
salutation to the sovereigns and a defiance to the Moors. Onj 
the land side also, reinforcements would be seen, winding downj 
from the mountains to the sound of drum and trumpet, and; 
marching into the camp with glistening arms, as yet unsullied,! 
by the toils of war. 

One morning, the whole sea was whitened by the sails and ■ 
vexed by the oars of ships and galleys bearing towards the 
port. One hundred vessels of various kinds and sizes arrived, 
some armed for warlike service, others deep freighted with 
provisions. At the same time, the clangor of drum and trum- 
pet bespoke the arrival of a powerful force by land, whict 
came pouring in lengthening columns into the camp. This 
mighty reinforcement was furnished by the duke of Medinf 
Sidonia, who reigned like a petty monarch over his vast pos- 
sessions. He came with this princely force, a volunteer to the 

* Cura de los Palacios. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 229 

royal standard, not having: been summoned by the soverei^s ; 
and he brought, moreover, a loan of twenty thousand doblas 
of gold. 

When the camp was thus powerfully reinforced, Isabella 
advised that new offers of an indulgent kind shoidd be made 
to the inhabitants; for she was anxious to prevent the miseries 
of a protracted siege, or the effusion of blood that must attend 
a general attack. A fresh summons was, therefore, sent for 
the city to surrender, witli a promise of life, liberty, and pro- 
perty, in case of immediate compliance; but denouncing all 
the horrors of war, if the defence were obstinately continued. 

Hamet el Zegi-i again rejected the offer with scorn. His 
main fortifications as yet were but little impaired, and were 
capable of holding out much longer ; he trusted to the thou- 
sand evils and accidents that beset a besieging army, and to 
the inclemencies of the approaching season ; and it is said that 
he, as well as his folloAvers, had an infatuated belief in the pre- 
dictions of the dervise. 

The worthy Fray Antonio Agapida does not scruple to 
affirm, that the pretended proi)het of the city Avas an arch 
nigromancer, or Moorish magician, ' ' of which there be count- 
less many," says he, "in the filthy sect of Mahomet;" and 
that he was leagued with the prince of the powers of the air, 
to endeavor to work the confusion and defeat of the Christian 
army. The worth}^ father asserts, also, that Hamet employed 
him in a high tower of the Gibralfaro, which commanded a 
wide view over sea and land, where he wrought spells and 
incantations with astrolabes and other diabolical instruments, 
to defeat the Christian ships and forces, whenever they were 
engaged with the Moors. 

To the potent spells of this sorcerer, he ascribes the perils 
and losses sustained by a party of cavaliers of the royal house- 
hold, in a desperate combat to gain two towers of the suburb, 
near the gate of the city called la Puerto de Granada. The 
Christians, led on by Ruy Lopez de Toledo, the valiant trea- 
surer of the queen, took, and lost, and retook the towers, 
which were finally set on fire by the Moors, and abandoned to 
the flames by both parties. To the same malignant influence 
ho attributes the damage done to the Christian fleet, which 
was so vigorously assailed by the albatozas, or floating bat- 
teries of the Moors, that one ship, belonging to the duke of 
Alcdina Sidonia, was sunk, and the rest were obliged to retire. 

"Hamet el Zegri," says Fray Antonio Agapida, "stood on 



230 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADa.. 

the top of the high tower of Gibralfaro, and beheld this injury 
wro eight upon the Christian force, and his proud heart wa^s 
puffed up. And the Moorish nigromancer stood beside him. 
And he pointed out to him the Christian host below, encamped 
on every eminence around the city, and covering its fertile val- 
ley, and the many ships floating upon the tranquil sea ; and he 
bade him be strong of heart, for that in a few days all this 
mighty fleet would be scattered by the winds of Heaven ; and 
that he should sally forth, under guidance of the sacred ban- 
ner, and attack this host and utterly defeat it, and make spoil 
of those sum.ptuous tents ; and Malaga should be triumphantly 
revenged upon her assaflants. So the heart of Hamet was 
hardened like that of Pharaoh, and he persisted in setting at 
defiance th<^ ©^sthohc sovereigns and their army of saintly 
warriors/ 



CHAPTER XVI. 



SIEGE OF MALAGA CONTINUED— DESTRUCTION OF A TOWER, BY 
FRANCISCO RAMIREZ DE MADRID. 

Seeing the infatuated obstinacy of the besieged, the Chris- 
tians now approached their works to the walls, gaining one 
position after another, preparatory to a general assault. Near 
the barrier of the city was a bridge with four arches, defended 
at each end by a strong and lofty tower, by which a part of 
the army would have to pass in making an attack. The com- 
mander-in-chief of the artillery, Francisco Ramirez de Madrid, 
was ordered to take possession of this bridge. The approach ; 
to it was perilous in the extreme, from the exposed situation 
of the assailants, and the number of Moors that garrisoned the 
towers. Francisco Ramirez, therefore, secretly excavated a 
mine leading beneath the first tower, and placed a piece cf 
ordnance with its mouth upwo.rds, immediately under the 
foundation, with a train of powder to produce an explosion at 
the necessary moment. 1 

When this was arranged, he advanced slowly with his forces') 
in face of the towers, erecting buhvarks at every step, and i 
gradually gaining ground, until he arrived near to the bridge. 
He then planted several pieces of artillery in his works, and 
began to batter the tower. The Moors replied bravely from 



TllH C0NQUK8T OF GRANADA. 231 

their battlements ; but in the heat of the combat, the jnece of 
ordnance under the foundation was discharged. The earth was 
rent open, a part of the tower overthrown, and several of the 
Moors torn to pieces; the rest took to flipcht, overvvhehned mth 
tc^rror at this tliinidering explosion bursting beneatli tlieir feet, 
and at beholding the earth vomiting flames and smoke; for 
never before had they witnessed such a stratagem in warfare. 
The Christians rushed forv/ard and took possession of the 
abandoned post, and immediately commenced an attack upon 
the other tower at the opposite end of the bridge, to which the 
Moors had retired. An incessant fire of cross-bows and arque- 
busses was kept up between the rival towers, volleys of stenes 
were discharged, and no one dared to venture upon the inter- 
mediate bridge. 

Francisco de Ramirez at length renewed his former mode ef 
approach, making bulwarks step by step, while the ]\Ioors, 
stationed at the other end, swept the bridge with their artil- 
lery. The combat was long and bloody, — furious on the part 
of the Moors, patient and persevering on the part of the Chris- 
tians. By slow degrees, they accomplished their advance 
across the bridge, drove the enemy before them, and remained 
masters of this important pass. 

For this valiant and skilful achievement, king Ferdinand, 
after the surrender of the city, conferred the dignity of knight- 
hood upon Fr^mcisco Eamirez, in the tower which he had so 
gloriously gained.* The worthy padre Fray Antonio Agapida 
indulges in more than a page of extravagant eulogy, upon this 
invention of blowing up the foundation of the tower by a piece 
of ordnance, which he affirms to be the first instance on record 
of gunpowder being used in a mine. 



CHAPTER XVII. 



HOW THE PEOPLE OF MALAGA EXPOSTULATED WITH HAMET EL 

ZEGRI. 

While the dervise was deluding the garrison of Malaga with 
vain hopes, the famine increased to a terrible degree. The 
Gomeres ranged about the city as though it had been a con- 
quered place, taking by force whatever they found eatable in 

• * Piilgar, part 3, c. 91. 



232 TEE CONQUEST OF GllANADA. 

the houses of the peaceful citizens ; and breaking open vaults 
and cellars, and demolishing walls, wherever they thought 
provisions might be concealed. 

The wretched inhabitants had no longer bread to eat; the ; 
horse-flesh also now failed them, and they were fain to devour | 
skins and hides toasted at the fire, and to assuage the hunger | 
of their children with vine-leaves cut up and fried in oil. | 
lany perished of famine, or of the unwholesome food with j 
vhich they endeavored to relieve it; and many took refuge f 
in the Christian camp, preferring captivity to the horrors \ 
vv^hich surroimded them. 

At length the sufferings of the inhabitants became so great, 
as to conquer even their fears of Hamet and his Gomeres. ' 
They assembled before the house of Ali Dordux, the wealthy : 
merchant^ whose stately mansion was at the foot of the hill of i: 
the Alcazaba, and they urged him to stand forth as their ; 
leader, and to intercede with Hamet el Zegri for a surrender. ! 
Ah Dordux was a man of courage, as well as policy ; he per- 
ceived alsc that hunger was giving boldness to the citizens, ' 
while he trusted it was subduing the fierceness of the soldiery. 
He armed himself, therefore, cap-a-pie, and undertook this 
dangerous parley with the alcayde. He associated with him 
an alfaqui named Abrahen Alharis, and an important inhabi- 
tant named Amar ben Amar; and they ascended to the for- 
tress of Gibralfaro, followed by several of the trembhng mer^ 
chants. 

They found Hamet el Zegri, not, as before, surrounded by 
ferocious guards and all the implements of war; but in a 
chamber of one of the lofty towers, at a table of stone, covered 
with scroUs traced with strange characters and mystic dia 
grams ; while instruments of singular and unknown form lay i 
about the room. Beside Hamet el Zegri stood the prophetic 
dervise, who appeared to have been explaining to him the mys- 
terious inscriptions of the scrolls. His presence filled the citi- , 
zens with awe, for even Ali Dordux considered hiiai a man in- 
spired. 

The alfaqui Abrahen Alha^ris, whose sacred character gave 
him boldness to speak, now lifted up his voice, and addressed 
Hamet el Zegri. "We implore you," said he, solemnly, "iu ! 
the name of the most powerful God, no longer to persist in a 
vain resistance, whicli mas^ end in our destruction, but de- 
liver up the city while clemency is yet to be obtained. Think 
how many of our warriors have fallen b7;" the swoixl ; do not 



THE CONQUEST OF GliAJVABA. 283 

suffer those who survive to perish by famine. Our Avives and 
children cry to us for bread, and we have none to give them. 
We see them expire in hngering agony before our eyes, while 
the enemy mocks our misery by displaying the abundance of 
his camp. Of what avail is our defence? Are our walls per- 
ad venture more strong than the walls of Ronda? Are our war- 
riors more brave than the defenders of Loxa? The walls of 
Ronda were thro^vn down, and the warriors of Loxa had to 
surrender. Do we hope for succor? — from whence are we to 
receive it? The time for hope is gone by. Granada has lost 
its power ; it no longer possesses chivalry, commanders, or a 
king. Boabdil sits a vassal in the degraded halls of the Al- 
hambra; El Zagal is a fugitive, shut up within the walls of 
Guadix. The kingdom is divided against itself, —its strength 
is gone, its pride fallen, its very existence at an end. In the 
name of Allah, we conjure thee, who art our captain, be not 
our direst enemy ; but surrender these ruins of our once happy 
Malaga, and deliver us from these overwhelming horrors." 

Such was the supplication forced from the inhabitants by 
the extremity of their sufferings. Hamet el Zegri listened to 
the alfaqui without anger, for he respected the sanctity of his 
office. His heart, too, was at that moment lifted up with a 
vain confidence. "Yet a few days of patience," said he, " and 
all these evils will suddenly have an end. I have been con- 
ferring \\dth this holy man, and find that the time of our de- 
liverance is a thand. The decrees of fate are inevitable ; it is 
written in the book of destiny, that we shall sally forth and 
destroy the camp of the unbelievers, and banquet upon those 
mountains of grain which are piled up in the midst of it. So 
Allah hath promised, by the mouth of this his prophet. AUah 
Achbar! God is gi*eat. Let no man oppose the decrees of 
Heaven !" 

The citizens bowed with profound reverence, for no true 
! Moslem pretends to struggle against whatever is written in 
itbe book of fate. Ali Dordux, who had come prepared to 
champion the city and to brave the ire of Hamet, humbled 
himself before this holy man, and gave faith to his prophe- 
^cies as the revelations of Allah. So the deputies returned to 
jitho citizens, and exhorted them to be of good cheer: "A few 
days longer," said they, " and our sufferings are to terminate. 
When the white banner is removed from the tower, then look 
out for deliverance ; for the hour of sallying forth will have 
:7.rrived. " The poople retired to theJr home;-;, vrith porrowfnT 



234 TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

hearts ; tliey tried in vain to quiet the cries of their famishing 
children ; and day by day, and hour by hour, their anxious 
eyes were turned to the sacred banner, wliich still continued 
to wave on the tower of Gibralfaro. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



HOW HAMET EL ZEGRI SALLIED FORTH WITH THE SACRED BAN- 
NER, TO ATTACK THE CHRISTIAN CASIP. 

"The Moorish nigromancer, " observes the worthy Fray 
Antonio Agapida, "remained shut up in a tower of the Gibral- 
faro, devising devihsh means to work mischief and discomfit- 
ure upon the Christians. He was daily consulted by Hamet 
el Zegri, who had great faith in those black and magic arts, 
which he had brought with Mm from the bosom of heathen ; 
Africa." 

From the account given of this dervise and his incantations 
by the worthy father, it would appear that he was an astrolo- 
ger, and was studying the stars, and endeavoring to calcu- 
late the day and hour when a successful attack might be made \ 
upon the Christian camp. 

Famine had now increased to such a degree as to distress 
even the garrison of Gibralfaro, although the Gomeres had 
seized upon all the provisions they could find in the city. 
Their passions were sharpened by hunger, and they became 
restless and turbulent, and impatient for action. 

Hamet el Zegri was one day in coimsel with his captains, 
perplexed by the pressure of events, when the dervise entered 
among them. "The hour of victory," exclaimed he, "is at 
hand, Allah has commanded that to-morrow morning ye 
shall sally forth to the fight. I will bear before you the sacred 
banner, and deliver your enemies into your hands. Remember, 
however, that ye a.re but instruments in the hands of Allah, to 
take vengeance on the enemies of the faith. Go into battle, 
therefore, with pure hearts, forpfiving each other all past 
offences ; for those who are charitable towards each other, will 
be victorious over the foe." The words of the dervise were 
received with rapture: all Gibralfaro and the Alcazaba re- 
sounded immediatelv with the din of arms: nnd Hamet sent 



THE CONQUEST OF QRANADA, 235 

throughout the towers and fortifications of the city, and 
selected the choicest troops and most distinguished captains 
for this eventful combat. 

In the morning early, the rumor went throughout the city 
that the sacred banner had disappeared from the tower of Gib- 
ralfaro, and all Malaga was roused to witness the sally that was 
to destroy the unbelievers. Hamet descended from his strong- 
hold, accompanied by his principal captain, Abrahen Zenctc, 
and followed by his Gomeres. The dervise led the way, dis- 
playing the white banner, the sacred pledge of victory. The 
multitude shouted " Allah Acbar !" and prostrated themselves 
before the banner as it passed. Even the dreaded Hamet was 
hailed with praises ; for in their hopes of speedy relief through 
the prowess of his arm, the populace forgot every thing but 
his bravery. Every bosom in Malaga was agitated by hope 
and fear— the old men, the women and children, and all who 
went not forth to battle, mounted on tower and battlement 
and roof, to watch a combat that was to decide their fate. 

Before sallj^ing forth from the city, the dervise addressed the 
troops, reminding them of the holy nature of this enterprise, 
and warning them not to forfeit the protection of the sacred 
banner by any unworthy act. They were not to pause to make 
spoil nor to take prisoners : they were to press forward, fight- 
ing valiantly, and granting no quarter. The gate was then 
throAvn open, and the dervise issued forth, followed by the 
army. They directed their assaults upon the encampments of 
the Master of Santiago and the Master of Alcantara, and came 
upon them so suddenly that they killed and wounded several 
1 of the guards. Abrahen Zenete made his way into one of the 
tents, where he beheld several Christian striplings just start- 
ing from thei" slumber. The heart of the Moor was suddenly 
\ touched with pity for their youth, or perhaps he scorned the 
i weakness of the foe. He smote them with the flat, instead of 
lithe edge of the sword. ''Away, imps," cried he, "away to 
\ your mothers. " The fanatic dervise reproached him with his 
clemency — " I did not kill them," replied Zenete, "because I 
[saw no beards !" * 

I The alarm was given in the camp, and the Christians rushed 
from all quarters to defend the gates of the bulwarks. Don 
Pedro Puerto Carrero, Senior of Moguer, and liis brother Don 
A-lonzo Pacheco, planted themselves, with their followers, in 



* Cura de los Palacios, c. 84. 



236 THE CONQUEST OF OBANADA. 

the gateway of the encampment of the Master of Santiago, anc^ 
bore the whole brunt of battle until they were reinforced. 
The gate of the encampment of the Master of Calatrava was in 
like manner defended by Lorenzo Saurez de Mendoza. Hamet 
el Zegri was furious at being thus checked, where he had 
expected a miraculous victory. He led his troops repeatedly 
to the attack, hoping to force the gates before succor should 
arrive : they fought with vehement ardor, but were as often 
repulsed ; and every time they returned to the assault, they 
found their enemies doubled in number. The Christians 
opened a cross-fire of all kinds of missiles, from their bulwarks ; 
the Moors could effect but Mttle damage upon a foe thus pro- 
tected behind their works, while they themselves were exposed 
from head to foot. The Cliristians smgled out the most 
conspicuous cavaliers, the greater part of whom were either 
slain or wounded. Still the Moors, infatuated by the predic- 
tions of the prophet, fought desperately and devotedly, and 
they were furious to avenge the slaughter of their leaders. 
They rushed upon certain death, endeavoring madly to scale 
the bulwarks, or force the gates, and fell amidst showers of 
darts and lances, filling the ditches with their mangled bodies. 

Hamet el Zegri raged along the front of the bulwarks, seek- 
ing an opening for attack. He gnashed his teeth with fury, as 
he saw so many of his chosen warriors slain around him. He 
seemed to have a charmed life ; for, though constantly in the 
hottest of the fight, amidst showers of missiles, he still escaped 
uninjured. Blindly confiding in the prophecy of victory, he 
continued to urge on his devoted troops. Tlie dervise, too, 
ran like a maniac through the ranks, waving his white banner, 
and inciting the Moors by bowlings rather than by shouts. In 
the midst of his frenzy, a stone from a catapult struck him on 
the head, and dashed out his bewildered brains.* 

When the Moors beheld their prophet slain, and his banner 
in the dust, they were seized with despair, and fled in confu- 
sion to the city. Hamet el Zegri made some effort to rally 
them, but was himself confounded by the fall of the dervise. 
He covered the flight of his broken forces, turning repeatedly 
upon their pursuers, and slowly making his retreat into the 
city. 

The inhabitants of Malaga witnessed from their walls, with 
trembling anxiety, the whole of this disastrous conflict. At 

* Garibav, lib. 18, c. 33. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 237 

the first onset, when they behold the piiards of the camp put 
to flight, they exclaimed, "Allah has given us the victory!" 
and they sent up shouts of triumph. Their exultation, liow- 
ever, was soon turned into doubt, when they heheld their 
troops repulsed in repeated attacks. They could see, from 
time to time, some distinguished warrior laid low, and others 
brought back bleeding to the city. When at length the sacred 
banner fell, and the routed troops came flying to the gates, 
pursued and cut down by the foe, horror and despau- seized 
upon the populace. 

As Hamet el Zegri entered the gates, he heard nothing but 
loud lamentations: mothers, whose sons had been slain, 
shrieked curses after him as he passed ; some, in the anguish 
of their hearts, threw down their famishing babes before him, 
exclaiming, "Trample on them with thy horse's feet; for we 
have no food to give them, and we cannot endure their cries. " 
All heaped execrations on his head, as the cause of the woes of 
Malaga. 

The warUke part of the citizens also, and many warriors, 
who, with their wives and children, had taken refuge in Mala- 
ga from the mountain fortresses, now joined in the popular 
clamor, for their hearts were overcome by the sufferings of 
their families. 

Hamet el Zegri found it impossible to withstand this torrent 
of lamentations, curses, and reproaches. His military ascen- 
dancy was at an end ; for most of his officers, and the prime 
warriors of his African band, had fallen in this disastrous 
sally. Turning his back, therefore, upon the city, and aban- 
doning it to its own councils, he retired with the remnant ot 
his Gomeres to his strong-hold m the Gibralfaro. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

HOW THE CITY OF MALAGA CAPITULATED. 

'I'HE people of Malaga, being no longer overawed by Hamet 
ol Zegi'i and his Gomeres, turned to Ali Dordux, the magiiam- 
mous merchant, and put tlie fate of the city into his nands. 
He had already gained the alcaydes of the castle of the Geno- 
ese, and of the citadol, into his party, and in the late con- 



238 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

fusion had gained the sway over those important fortresses. 
He now associated himself with the alfaqui Abrahen Alhariz 
and four of the principal inhabitants, and, forming a provi- 
sional junta, they sent heralds to the Christian sovereigns, 
offering to surrender the city on certain terms, protecting the 
persons and property of the inhabitants, permitting them to 
reside as Mudexares or tributary vassals, either in Malaga or 
elsewhere. 

When the heralds arrived at the camp, and made known 
their mission to king Ferdinand, his anger was kindled. "Re- 
turn to your fellow-citizens, " said he, ' ' and tell them that the 
day of grace is gone by. They have persisted in a fruitless 
defence, until they are driven by necessity to capitulate ; they 
must surrender unconditionally, and abide the fate of the 
vanquished. Those who merit death shall suffer death : those 
who merit captivity shall be made captives." 

This stern reply spread consternation among the people of 
Malaga; but Ali Dordux comforted them, and undertook to go 
in person, and pray for favorable terms. When the people 
beheld this great and wealthy merchant, who was so eminent 
in their city, departing with his associates on this mission, 
they plucked up heart; for they said, "Surely the Christian 
king will not turn a deaf ear to such a man as Ali Dordux !" 

Ferdmand, however, would not even admit the ambassadors 
to his presence. " Send them to the devil !" said he, in a great 
passion, to the commander of Leon; " I'll not see them. Let 
them get back to their city. They shall all surrender to my 
mercy, as vanquished enemies." * 

To give emphasis to this reply, he ordered a general dis- 
charge from all the artillery and batteries ; and there was a 
great shout throughout the camp, and all the lombards and 
catapults, and other engines of war, thundered furiously upon 
the city, doing great damage. 

Ah Dordux and his companions returned to the city with 
downcast countenances, and could scarce make the reply of 
the Christian sovereign be heard, for the roaring of the ar- 
tillery, the tumbling of the walls, and the cries of women and 
children. The citizens were greatly astonished and dismayed, 
when they found the little respect paid to their most eminent 
man; but the warriors who were in the city exclaimed, "What 
has this merchant to do with questions between men of battle? 

* Cura d© los Palacios, cap. 84. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 239 

Let us not address the enemy as abject suppliants who have 
no power to injure, but as valiant men, who have weapons in 
their hands." 

So they dispatched another message to the Christian sover- 
eigns, offering to jaeld up the city and all their effects, on con- 
dition of being secured in their personal liberty. Should this 
be denied, they declared they would hang from the battle- 
ments fifteen hundred Christian captives, male and female; 
that they would put all their old men, their women and chil- 
dren, into the citadel, set fire to the city, and sally forth sword 
in hand, to fight until the last gasp. "In this way," said they, 
"the Spanish sovereigns shall gain a bloody victory, and the 
fall of Malaga be renowned while the world endures." 

To this fierce and swelling message, Ferdinand rephed, that 
if a single Christian captive were injured, not a Moor in Mal- 
aga but should be put to the edge of the sword. 

A great conflict of counsels now arose in Malaga. The Avar- 
riors were for following up their menace by some desperate 
act of vengeance or of seK-devotion. Those w^ho had families 
looked with anguish upon their wives and daughters, and 
thought it better to die than live to see them captives. By 
degrees, however, the transports of passion and despair sub- 
sided, the love of life resumed its sway, and they turned once 
more to Ali Dordux, as the man most prudent in council and 
able in negotiation. By his advice, fourteen of the principal 
inhabitants were chosen from the fourteen districts of the city, 
and sent to the camp, bearing a long letter, couched in terms 
of the most humble supplication. 

Various debates now took place in the Christian camp. 
Many of the cavaliers were exasperated against Malaga for 
its long resistance, which had caused the death of many of 
their relations and favorite companions. It had long been a 
strong-hold also for Moorish depredators, and the mart where 
most of the warriors captured in the Axarquia had been ex- 
posed in triumph and sold to slavery. They represented, 
moreover, that there were many Moorish cities yet to be be- 
sieged ; and that an example ought to be made of Malaga, to 
prevent all obstinate resistance thereafter. They advised, 
therefore, that all the inhabitants should be put to the sword ! * 

The humane heart of Isabella revolted at such sanguinary 
counsels: she insisted that their triumph should not be dig* 

* Pulgar. 



240 THE CONQUEST OF Q RAN AD A. 

graced by cruelty. Ferdinand, however, was inflexible in re« 
fusing to grant any preliminary terms, insisting on an uncon- 
ditional surrender. 

Tlie people of Malaga now abandoned themselves to par- 
oxysms of despair; on the one side they saw famine and 
death, on the other slavery and chains. The mere men of 
the sword, who had no families to protect, were loud for sig- 
nahzing then* fall by some illustrious action. "Let us sacri-l 
fice our Christian captives, and then destroy ourselves,-' cried? 
some. ' ' Let us put all the women and children to death, set 
fire to the city, fall on the Christian camp, and die sword in 
hand," cried others. 

Ali Dordux gradually made his voice be heard, amidst the 
general clamor. He addressed himself to the principal inhabi- 
tants, and to those who had children. "Let those who live by 
the sword, die by the sword," cried he; "but let us not follow 
their desperate counsels. Who knows what sparks of pity 
may be awakened in the bosoms of the Christian sovereigns, 
when they behold our unoffending wives and daughters, and 
our helpless httle ones ! The Christian queen, they say, is full 
of mercy." 

At these words, the hearts of the unhappy people of Malaga 
yearned over their families, and they empowered Ali Dordux 
to deliver up their city to the mercy of the Castihan sov- 
ereigns. 

The merchant now went to and fro, and had several com- 
munications with Ferdinand and Isabella, and interested sev- 
eral principal cavaliers in his cause ; and he sent rich presents 
to the king and queen, of orientaJ merchandise, and silks and 
stuffs of gold, and jewels and precious stones, and spices and 
perfumes, and many other sumptuous things, which he had 
accumulated in his great tradings vnth the east ; and he grad- 
ually found favor in the eyes of the sovereigns.* Finding that 
there was nothing to be obtained for the city, he now, like a 
prudent man and able merchant, began to negotiate for him- 
self and his immediate friends. He represented that from the 
first they had been desirous of yielding up the city, but had 
been prevented by warlike and high-handed men, who had 
threatened their lives: he entreated, therefore, that mercy 
might be extended to them, and that they might not be con- 
founded Avith the guilty. 

* MS. Chron. of Valera. 



THE CONqVEtST OF GRANADA 241 

The sovereigns had accepted the presents of Ali Dordux— 
how could they then turn a deaf ear to his petition? So they 
gi-anted a pardon to him, and to forty famihos which he 
named ; and it was agi-eed that they should be protected in 
their liberties and property, and permitted to reside in Malaga 
as Mudexares or Moslem vassals, and to follow then- customary 
pursuits.* AU this being arranged. Ah Dordux delivered up 
twenty of the principal inhabitants, to remain as hostages, 
mitil the whole city should be placed in the possession of the." 
Christians. 

Don Gutiere de Cardenas, senior commander of Leon, now 
entered the city, armed cap-a-pie, on horseback, and took pos- 
session in the name of the Castihan sovereigns. He was fol- 
lowed by his retainers, and by the captains and cavahers of 
the army ; and in a little while, the standards of the cross, and 
of the blessed Santiago, and of the Cathohc sovereigns, were 
elevated on the principal tower of the Alcazaba. When these 
standards were beheld from the camp, the queen and the 
princess and the ladies of the court, and all the royal retinue, 
knelt down and gave thanks and praises to the holy vu-gin and 
to Santiago, for this great triumph of the faith; and the 
bishops and other clergy who were present, and the choristers 
of the royal chapel, chanted " Te Deum Laudamus.''^ am 
*' Gloria in Excelsisy 



CHAPTER XX 



FULFILMENT OF THE PROPHECY OF THE DERVISE— FATE O 
HAMET EL ZEGRI. 

No sooner was the city delivered up, than the wretched in- 
habitants implored permission to purchase bread for them^ 
selves and their children, from the heaps of grain which they 
had so often gazed at wistfully from their walls. Their prayer 
was granted, and they issued forth witli the famished eager- 
ness of starving men. It was piteous to behold the struggles 
of those unhappy people, as they contended who first should 
have their necessities reheved. 

* Cura de los Palacios 



242 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

'* Thus, "says the pious Fray Antonio Agapida, "thua are 
the predictions of false prophets sometimes permitted to be 
verified, but always to the confusion of those who trust in 
them : for the words of the Moorish nigromancer came to pass, 
that the loeople of Malaga should eat of those heaps of bread ; 
but they ate in hmniliation and defeat, and with sorrow and 
bitterness of heart. 

Dark and fierce were the feelings of Hamet el Zegri, as he 
looked down from the castle of Gibralfaro and beheld the 
Christian legions pouring into the city, and the standard of 
the cross supplantiug the crescent on the citadel. " The people 
of Malaga," said he, " have trusted to a man of trade, and he 
has trafficked them away ; but let us not suffer ourselves to be 
bound hand and foot, and dehvered up as part of his bargain. 
We have yet strong walls around us, and trusty weapons in 
our hands. Let us fight until buried beneath the last tum- 
bhng tower of Gibralfaro, or, rushing down from among its 
ruins, carry havoc among the unbelievers, as they throng the 
streets of Malaga !" 

The fierceness of the Gomeres, however, was broken. Tliey 
could have died in the breach, had their castle been assailed ; 
but the slow advances of famine subdued their strength with- 
out rousing their passions, and sapped the force both of soul 
and body. They were almost unanimous for a surrender. 

It was a hard struggle for the proud spirit of Hamet, to bow 
itself to ask for terms. Still he trusted that the valor of his 
defence would gain him respect in the eyes of a chivalrous 
foe. "AH," said he, "has negotiated like a merchant; I will 
capitulate as a soldier." He sent a herald, therefore, to Ferdi- 
nand, offering to yield up his castle, but demanding a separate 
treaty.* The Castilian sovereign made a laconic and stern re- 
ply: " He shall receive no terms but such as have been granted 
to the community of Malaga." 

For two days Hamet el Zegri remained brooding in his 
castle, after the city was in possession of the Christians; at 
length, the clamors of his followers compelled him to sur- 
render. When the broken remnant of this fierce African gar- 
rison descended from their cragged fortress, they were so worn 
by watchfulness, famine, and battle, yet carried such a lurking 
fury in their eyes, that they looked more like fiends than 
men. They were all condemned to slavery, excepting Abrahen 

* Cura de los Palacios. 



THE CO:sqUElST OF GRANADA. 243 

Zenete. The instance of clemency which he had shown in re- 
fraining to harm the Spanish striplings, on tlie last sally from 
Malaga, won him favorable terms. It was cited as a magna- 
nimous act by the Spanish cavaliers, and all admitted, that 
though a Moor in blood, he possessed the Christian heart of a 
Castihan hidalgo.* 

As to Hamet el Zegri, on being asked what moved him to 
such hardened obstinacy, he replied, " When I undertook my 
command, I pledged myself to light in defence of my faith, my 
city, and my sovereign, until slain or made prisoner ; and de- 
pend upon it, had I had men to stand by me, I should liave 
died fightmg, instead of thus tamely surrendering myself with- 
out a weapon in my hand." 

"Such," says the pious Fray Antonio Agapida, "was the 
diabolical hatred and stiff-necked opposition of this infidel to 
our holy cause. But he was justly served by our most Catho- 
lic and high-minded sovereign, for his pertinacious defence of 
the city ; for Ferdinand ordered that he should be loaded with 
chains, and thrown into a dungeon."! 



CHAPTER XXI. 



HOW THE CASTILIAN SOVEREIGNS TOOK POSSESSION OP THE 
CITY OF MALAGA, AND HOW KING FERDINAND SIGNALIZED 
HIMSELF BY HIS SKILL IN BARGAINING WITH THE INHABI- 
TANTS FOR THEIR RANSOM. 

One of the first cares of the conquerors, on entering Malaga, 
was to search for Christian captives. Nearly sixteen hundred 
men and women were found, and among them were persons of 
distinction. Some of them had been ten, fifteen, and twenty 
years in captivity. Many had been servants to the Moors, or 
laborers on public works, and some had passed their time in 
chains and dimgeons. Preparations were made to celebrate 
their deliverance as a Christian triumph. A tent was erected 
not far from the city, and furnished with an altar and all the 
solemn decorations of a chapel. Here the king and queen 

* Qiira de los P.iJnoios. cap. 84. t l'ulp:ar. Cronica. 



244 THE CONQUEST OF GllANADA. 

waited to receive the Christian captives. They were assern- 
bled in the city, and marshalled forth in piteous procession. 
Many of them had still the chains and shackles on then- legs ; 
they were wasted with famine, their hair and beards over- 
grown and matted, and their faces pale and haggard from 
long confinement. When they beheld themselves restored to 
liberty, and surrounded by their countrymen, some stared 
wildly about as if in a dream, others gave way to frantic 
transports, but most of them wept for joy. All present were 
moved to tears, by so touching a spectacle. When the pro- 
cession arrived at what is called the Grate of Granada, it was 
met by a great concourse from the camp, with crosses and 
pennons, who turned and followed the captives, singing hymns 
of praise and thanksgiving. When they came in presence of 
the king and queen, they threw themselves on their knees and 
would have kissed theh feet, as their saviours and deliverers ; 
but the sovereigns prevented such humihation, and gTaciously 
extended to them their hands. They then prostrated them- 
selves before the altar, and all present joined them in givmg 
thanks to God for their hberation from this cruel bondage. 
By orders of the king and queen, their chains were then taken 
off, and they were clad in decent raiment, and food was set be- 
fore them. After they had eat and drunk, and were refreshed 
and invigorated, they were provided with money and all things 
Accessary for their journey, and were sent joyfully to their 
homes. 

While the old chroniclers dwell with becoming enthusiasm 
on this pure and affecting triumph of humanity, they go on, in 
a strain of equal eulogy, to describe a spectacle of a far different 
nature. It so happened, that there were found in the city 
twelve of those renegade Christians v/ho had deserted to the 
Moors, and conveyed false intelligence, during the siege: a 
barbarous species of punishment was inflicted upon them, bor- 
rowed, it is said, from the Moors, and peculiar to these wars. 
They were tied to stakes in a public place, and horsemen exer- 
cised their skill in transpiercing them with pointed reeds, 
hurled at them while careering at full speed, until the miserable 
victims expired beneath their wounds. Several apostate Moors, 
also, who, having embraced Christianity, had afterwards re- 
lapsed into their early faith and had taken refuge in Malaga 
from the vengeance of the Inquisition, were publicly burnt. 
" These," says an old Jesuit historian, exultingly, " these were 
the tilts of reeds and the illuminations most pleasing for this 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 243 

victorious festival, and for the Catholic piety of our sove- 
reigns !" * 

When the city was cleansed from tlie impurities and offen- 
sive odors which had collected during the siege, the bishops and 
other clergy who accompanied the court, and the chou' of the 
royal chapel, walked in procession to the principal mosque, 
which was consecrated, and entitled Santa Maria de la Incama- 
cion. This done, the king and (peen entered the city, accom- 
panied by the grand cardinal of Spain, and the principal nobles 
and cavaliers of the army, and heard a solemn mass. The 
church was then elevated into a cathedral, and Malaga was 
made a bishopric, and many of the neighboring towns wero 
comprehended in its diocese. The queen took up her residence 
in the Alcazaba, in the apartments of her vahant treasurer, 
Ruy Lopez, from whence she had a view of tlic whole city ; but 
the king estabHshed his quarters in the warrior castle of Gib- 
ralfaro. 

And now came to be considered the disposition of the Moorish 
prisoners. All those who were strangers in the city, and had 
either taken refuge there, or had entered to defend it, were at 
once considered slaves. They were divided into three lots: 
I one was set apart for the service of God, in redeeming Christian 
I captives from bondage, either in the kingdom of Granada or in 
Africa ; the second lot was divided among those who had aided 
! either in field or cabinet, in the present siege, according to their 
I rank ; the third was appropriated to defray, by their sale, the 
gi'eat expenses incurred in the reduction of the place. A hun 
dred of the Gomeres were sent as presents to Pope Innocent 
VIII., and were led in triumph through the streets of Rome, 
land afterwards converted to Christianity. Fifty Moorish 
smaidens were sent to the queen Joanna of Naples, sister to 
iking Ferdinand, and thirty to the queen of Portugal. Isabella 
jmade presents of others to the ladies of her household, and of 
the noble families of Spain. 

Among the inhabitants of Malaga were four hundred and fifty 
.Moorish Jews, for the most part women, spealdng the Arabic 
language, and dressed in the Moresco fashion. These were 
';^nsomed by a wealthy Jew of Castile, farmer-general of the 
|!*oyal revenues derived from the Jews of Spain. He agreed to 



■ *"Los renepradoc fueron acanavareados : y los converses quemados: y estoa 
•ueron las cafias, y luminarias mas alegres, por la fiesta de la vitoria. para la piedad 
Datholica de nuestros Reyes." — Abarca. Ancdes dc Aragvn, torn. 2, Ilcy xxx. c 3. 



246 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. j 

make up, within a certain time, the sum of twenty thousands 
doblas, or pistoles of gold; all the money and jewels of the 
captives being taken in part payment. They v;ere sent to Cas- 
tile, in two armed galleys. 

As to the great mass of Moorish inhabitants, they implored 
that they might not be scattered and sold into captivity, but' 
might be permitted to ransom themselves by an amount paid 
within a certain tune. Upon this, king Ferdinand took the 
advice of certain of his ablest counsellors : they said to him,, 
'' If you hold out a prospect of hopeless captivity, the infidels 
will throw all their gold and jewels mto wells and pits, and you 
will lose the greater part of the spoil ; but if you fix a general 
rate of ransom, and receive their money and jewels in pai-t 
payment, nothing will be destroyed." The king relished 
greatly this advice ; and it was arranged that all the inhabi-i 
tants should be ransomed at the general rate of thirty doblas 
or pistoles in gold for each individual, male or female, large or 
small ; that all their gold, jewels, and other valuables should be 
received immediately in part payment of the general amount, 
and that the residue should be paid within eight months ; that 
if any of the number, actually hving, should die in the interim, 
their ransom should nevertheless be paid. If, however, the 
whole of the amount wore not paid at the expiration of the, 
eight months, they should all be considered and treated as 



The unfortunate Moors were eager to catch at the least hope 
of future liberty, and consented to these hard conditions. The 
most rigorous precautions were taken to exact them to the 
uttermost. The inhabitants were numbered by houses and 
families, and their names takec down; their most precious^ 
effects were made up into parcels, and sealed and inscribed with; 
itheir names ; and they were ordered to repair with them to cer- 
tain large cor rales or inclosures adjoining the Alcazaba, which' 
were surrounded by high walls and overlooked by watch- 
towers, to which places the cavalgadas of Christian captives 
had usually been driven, to be confined imtil the time of sale, 
like cattle in the market. The Moors were obliged to leave 
their houses one by one; all their money, necklaces, bracelets,; 
and anklets of gold, pearl, coral, and precious stones, werf 
taken from them at the threshold, and their persons so rigor- 
ously searched that they carried off nothing concealed. 

Then might be seen old men and helpless women and tender 
maidens, some of high birth and gentle condition, passing 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 247 

through the streets, heavUy burdened, towards the Alcazaba. 
As they left their homes, they smote their breasts, and wrung 
their hands, and raised their weeping eyes to heaven in anguish ; 
and, this is recorded as their plaint: "O Malaga! city so 
renowned and beautiful ! where now is the strength of thy cas- 
tles, where the grandeur of thy towers? Of what avail have 
been thy mighty walls, for the protection of thy children? 
Behold them driven from thy pleasant abodes, doomed to drag 
out a life of bondage in a foreign land, and to die far from the 
home of their infancy ! Wliat wiU become of thy old men and 
matrons, when their gray hairs shall be no longer reverenced? 
What will become of thy maidens, so delicately reared and 
tenderly cherished, when reduced to hard and menial servi- 
tude? Behold, thy once happy famihes are scattered asunder, 
never again to be united ; sons are separated from their fathers' 
husbands from their wives, and tender children from their 
mothers: they will bewail each other in foreign lands, but their 
lamentations will be the scoff of the stranger. O Malaga' 
3ity of our birth! who can behold thy desolation, and not shed 
teai-s of bitterness?" * 

When Malaga was completely secured, a detachment was 
sent agamst two fortresses near the sea, called Mixas and 
Dsuna, which had frequently harassed the Christian camp 
rhe inhabitants were threatened with the sword, unless they 
nstantly surrendered. They claimed the same terms that had 
)een granted to Malaga, imagining them to be freedom of per- 
ion and security of property. Their claim was granted; they 
vere transported to Malaga with all their riches, and, on ar- 
ivmg there, were overwhelmed with consternation at' finding 
hemselves captives. ''Ferdinand," observes Fray Antonio 
^gapida, "was a man of his word; they were shut up in the 
aclosure at the Alcazaba with the people of Malaga, and shared 
aeir fate. " 

The unhappy captives remained thus crowded in the court- 
yards of the Alcazaba, like sheep in a fold, until thev could be 
?nt by sea and land to Seville. They were then distributed 
^ut m city and country, each Christian family having one 
r more to feed and maintain as servants, until the term fixed 
yr the payment of the residue of the ransom should expire. 
he captives had obtained permission that several of their num- 
^r should go about among the Moorish towns of the kingdom 

* Pulsar. 



248 THE COXQUKST OF GRANADA. 

of Granada, collecting contributions to aid in the purchase oi 
their liberties; but these towns were too much impoverished 
by the war, and engrossed by their own distresses, to lend a 
listening ear : so the time expired without the residue of the 
ransom being paid, and all the captives of Malaga, to the 
number, as some say, of eleven, and others of fifteen thousand, 
^became slaves! "Never," exclaims the worthy Fray Anto= 
nio Agapida, in one of his usual bursts of zeal and loyalty, 
' ' never has there been recorded a more adroit and sagacious ar- 
rangement than this made by the Cathohc monarch, by which 
he not only secured all the property and half of the ransom of 
these infidels, but finally got possession of their persons into 
the bargain. This truly may be considered one of the greatest 
triumphs of the pious and pohtic I'erdinand, and as raising | 
him above the generahty of conquerors, who hrve merely the I 
valor to gain victories, but lack the prudence and management j 
necessary to turn them to account." 



CHAPTEE XXII. 



now KING FERDINAND PREPARED TO CARRY THE WAR INTO A 
DIFFERENT PART OF THE TERRITORIES OF THE MOORS. 

The western part of the kingdom of Granada had now been 
conquered by the Christian arms. The sea-port of Malaga was 
captured : the fierce and warlike inhabitants of the Serrania 
de Honda, and the other mountain holds of the frontier, were 
all disarmed, and reduced to peaceful and laborious vassalge; ' 
theu' haughty fortresses, which had so long overawed the val- 
leys of Andalusia, now displayed the standard of Castile and 
Arragon ; the watch-towers, which crowned every height, and : 
from whence the infidels had kept a vulture eye over the Chris- 
tian territories, were now either dismantled, or garrisoned 
with Catholic troops. "What signalized and sanctified this 
great triumph," adds the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida, 
"were the emblems of ecclesiastical domination which every 
where appeared. In every direction arose stately convents 
and monasteries, those fortresses of the faith, garrisoned by 
itT spiritual soldiery of monks and friars. The sacred melody 
of Christian bells was again heard among the mountains, call- 



THE COAQUJlJST of UK ANA I) A. 249 

ing to early matins, or sounding the Angeles at the solemn 
hour of evening." 

While this part of the kingdom was thus reduced by the 
Christian sword, the central part, round the city of Granada, 
forming the heart of the Moorish territory, was held in vassal- 
age of the Castilian monarch, by Boabdil, surnamed El Chico. 
That unfortunate prince lost no occasion to propitiate the con- 
querors of his country by acts of homage, and by professions 
that must have been foreign to his heart. No sooner had he 
heard of the capture of Malaga, than he sent congratulations 
to the Cathohc sovereigns, accompanied with presents of horses 
richly caparisoned for the king, and precious cloth of gold and 
oriental perfumes for the queen. His congratulations and his 
presents were received with the utmost gi'aciousness ; and 
the short-sighted prince, lulled by the temporary and politic 
forbearance of Ferdinandj Hattercd himself that he was secur- 
ing the lasting friendship of that monarch. 

The policy of Boabdil had its transient and superficial advan- 
tages. The iDortion of I^Ioorish territory under his innnediate 
sway had a respite from the calamities of war : the husband- 
men cultivated their luxuriant fields in security, and the vega 
of Granada once more blossomed like the rose. The merchants 
again carried on a gainful trafiSc : the gates of the city were 
thronged with beasts of burden, bringing the rich products of 
every clime. Yet, while the people of Granada rejoiced in 
their teeming fields and crowded marts, they secretly despised 
I the policy which had procured them these advantages, and 
held Boabdil for little better than an apostate and an unbeliever. 
I Muley Abdallah el Zagal was now the hope of the unconquered 
part of the kingdom ; and every Moor, whose spirit was not 
quite subdued with his fortunes, lauded the valor of the old 
monarch and liis fidelity to the faith, and wished success to 
his standard. 

El Zagal, though he no longer sat enthroned in the Alham- 
bra, yet reigned over more considerable domains than his 
nephew. His territories extended from the frontier of Jaen 
along the borders of Murcia to the Mediterranean, and reached 
into the centre of the kingdom. On the north-east, he held 
the cities of Baza and Guadix, situated in the midst of fertile 
regions. He had the important sea-port of Almeria, also, 
which at one time rivalled Granada itself in wealth and popu- 
^tion. Beside these, his territories included a great part of 
.he Alpuxarra mountains, wdiich extend across the kin^rdom 



' 



250 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

and shoot out branches towards the sea-coast. This mountain- 
ous region was a strong-hold of wealth and power. Its stem 
and rocky heights, rising to the clouds, seemed to set invasion 
at defiance ; yet within their rugged embraces were sheltered 
dehghtful valleys, of the happiest temperature and richest 
fertility. The cool springs and Umpid rills which gushed out 
in all parts of the mountains, and the abundant streams, 
which, for a great part of the year, were supplied by the 
Sierra Nevada, spread a perpetual verdure over the skirts and 
slopes of the hills, and, collecting in silver rivers in the valleys, 
wound along among plantations of mulberry trees, and groves 
of oranges and citrons, of almonds, figs, and pomegranates. 
Here was produced the finest silk of Spain, which gave em- 
ployment to thousands of manufacturers. The sun-burnt sides 
of the hills, also, were covered with vineyards ; the abundant 
herbage of the mountain ravines, and the rich pasturage of the 
valleys, fed vast flocks and herds ; and even the arid and rocky 
bosoms of the heights teemed with wealth, from the mines of 
various metals with which they were impregnated. In a 
word, the Alpuxarra mountains had ever been the great source 
of revenue to the monarchs of Granada. Their inhabitants, 
also, were hardy and warlike, and a sudden summons from 
the Moorish king could at any time call forth fifty thousand 
fighting men from their rocky fastnesses. 

Such was the rich but rugged fragment of an empire which 
remained under the sway of the old warrior monarch El Zagal. 
The mountain barriers by which it was locked up, had pro- 
tected it from most of the ravages of the present war. El 
Zagal prepared himself, by strengthening every fortress, to 
battle fiercely for its maintenance. 

The Cathohc sovereigns saw that fresh troubles and toils 
awaited them. The war had to be carried into a new quarter, 
demanding inunense expenditures ; and new ways and means 
must be devised to replenish their exhausted coffers. " As this 
was a holy war, however," says Fray Antonio Agapida, " and 
pecuharly redounded to the prosperity of the church, the 
clergy were full of zeal, and contributed vast sums of money 
and large bodies of troops. A pious fund was also produced, 
from the first fruits of that glorious institution, the Inquisi- 
tion." 

It so happened, that about tliis time there were many fami- 
lies of wealth and dignity in the kingdoms of Arragon and 
Valentia, and the principahty of Catalonia, whose forefathers 



THE CONQUEST OF G RAN ADA. g.")! 

had been Jews, but had been converted to Christianity. Not- 
withstanding the outward piety of tliese famihes, it was sur- 
mised, and soon came to be strongly suspected, that many of 
them had a secret hanlcering after Judaism; and it was even 
wliispered, that some of them practised Jewish rites in private 
The CathoUc monarch (continues Agapida) hjid a righteous 
abhorrence of all kinds of heresy, and a fervent zeal for the 
faith; he ordered, therefore, a strict investigation of the con- 
duct of these pseudo Christians. Inquisitors were sent into 
these provinces for the purpose, who proceeded with their ac- 
customed zeal. The consequence was, that many famihes were 
convicted of apostasy from the Christian faith, and of the pri- 
vate practice of Judaism. Some, who had grace and policy 
sufficient to reform in time, were again received into the Chris- 
tian fold, after being severely mulcted and condemned to 
heavy penance; others were burnt at auto dafes, for the edi- 
fication of the pubhc, and their property was confiscated for 
the good of the state. 

As these Hebrews were of great wealth, and had a hereditary 
passion for jewelry, there was found abundant store in their 
possession of gold and silver, of rings and necklaces, and 
strings of pearl and coral, and precious stones ;— treasures easy 
ot transportation, and wonderfully adapted for the emergen- 
cies of war. -In this way," concludes the pious Agapida 
these backshders, by the all-seeing contrivances of Provi- 
dence, were made to serve the righteous cause which they had 
so treacherously deserted; and their apostate wealth was sanc- 
tified by being devoted to the sei-vice of Heaven and the crown 
m this holy crusade against the infidels." ' 

It must be added, however, that these pious financial expe^ 
dients received some check from the interference of queen 
Isabella. Her penetrating eyes discovered that many enormi- 
ties had been committed under color of religious zeal, and 
many innocent persons accused by false witnesses of apostasy 
either through malice or a hope of obtaining their wealth- she 
^.aused strict investigation, therefore, into the proceedings 
vvhich had been held; many of which were reversed, and 
suborners punished in proportion to their guilt.* 



Pulgar, part 3, c. 100. 



252 TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

HOW KING FERDINAND INVADED THE EASTERN SIDE OP THE 
KINGDOM OF GRANADA, AND HOW HE WAS RECEIVED BY EL 
ZAGAL. 

' "MuLEY Abd ALLAH EL Zagal," says the venerable Jesuit 
father, Pedro Abarca, "was the most venomous Mahometan 
in all Morisma :" and the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida most 
devoutly echoes his opinion; "Certainly," adds the latter, 
"none ever opposed a more heathenish and diabohcal obstinacy 
to the holy inroads of the cross and sword." 

El Zagal felt that it was necessary to do something to quicken 
his popularity with the people, and that nothing was more 
effectual than a successful inroad. The Moors loved the stir- 
ring call to arms, and a wild foray among the mountains ; and 
delighted more in a hasty spoU, wrested with hard fighting 
from the Christians, than in all the steady and certain gains 
secured by peaceful traffic. 

There reigned at this time a careless security along the fron- 
tier of Jaen. The alcaydes of the Christian fortresses were 
confident of the friendship of Boabdil el Chico, and they fan- 
cied his uncle too distant and too much engrossed by his own 
perplexities, to think of molesting them. On a sudden, El 
Zagal issued out of Guadix with a chosen band, passed rapidly 
through the mountains which extend beliind Granada, and fell 
like a thunderbolt upon the territories in the neighborhood of 
Alcala la Real. Before the alarm could be spread and the fron- 
tier roused, he had made a wide career of destruction through 
the country, sacking and burning villages, sweeping off flocks 
and herds, and carrying away captives. The warriors of the 
frontier assembled ; but El Zagal was already far on his return 
through the mountains, and he re-entered the gates of Guadix 
in triumph, his army laden with Christian spoil, and conduct- 
ing an immense cavalgada. Such was one of the fierce El 
Zagal's preparatives for the expected invasion of the Christian 
king, exciting the warlike spirit of his people, and gaining for 
himself a transient popularity. 

King Ferdinand assembled his army at Murcia in the spring 
of 1488. He left that city on the fifth of June, with a flying 
camp of four thousand horse and fourteen thousand foot. The 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 2r)3 

marques of Cadiz led the van, followed by the adelantado of 
Miircia. The army entered the Moorish frontier by the sea- 
coast, spreading terror through the land ; wherever it appeared, 
the toAvns surrendered without a blow, so great was the dread 
of experiencing the woes which had desolated the opposite 
frontier. In this way, Vera, Velez el Rubio, Velez el Blanco, 
and many towns of inferior note, to the number of sixty, 
pelded at the first summons. 

It was not until it approached Almeria, that the army met 
with resistance. This important city was commanded by 
the prince Zelim, a relation of El Zagal. He led forth his 
Moors bravely to the encounter, and skirmished fiercely with 
the advance guard in the gardens near the city. King Ferdi- 
nand came up with the main body of the army, and called off 
his troops from the skirmish. He saw that to attack the place 
with his present force was fruitless. Having reconnoitred the 
city and its environs, therefore, against a future campaign, he 
retired with his army and marched towards Baza. 

The old warrior El Zagal was himself drawn up in the city 
of Baza, with a powerful garrison. He felt confidence in the 
strength of the place, and rejoiced when he heard that the 
Christian king was approaching. In the valley in front of 
Baza, there extended a great tract of gardens, like a continued 
gi-ove, and intei-sected by canals and water-courses. In this he 
stationed a powerfid ambuscade of arquebusiers and cross-bow- 
men. The vanguard of the Christian army came marching 
gayly up the valley, with gi^eat sound of drum and trumpet, 
and led on by the marques of Cadiz and the adelantado of 
Murcia. As they drew near, El Zagal sallied forth with horse 
and foot, and attacked them for a time with great spirit. 
Gradually falling back, as if pressed by their superior valor, he 
drew the exulting Christians among the gardens. Suddenly 
the Moors in ambuscade burst from their concealment, and 
opened such a terrible fire in flank and rear, that many of 
the Christians were slain, and the rest thrown into confusion. 
King Ferdinand arrived in time to see the disastrous situation 
of his troops, and gave signal for the vanguard to retire. 

El Zagal did not permit the foe to draw off" unmolested. Or- 
dering out fresh squadrons, he fell upon the rear of the retreat- 
ing troops with loud and triumphant shouts, driving them 
before him with dreadful havoc. The old war-cry of "El 
Zagal ! El Zagal !" was again put up by the Moors, and was 
echoed with transport from the walls of the city. The Chris- 



254 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

tians were for a time in imminent peril of a complete route, 
when fortunately the adelantado of Murcia threw himself with 
a large body of horse and foot between the pursuers and the 
pursued, covering the retreat of the latter, and giving them time 
to rally. The Moors were now attacked so vigorously in turn, 
that they gave over the unequal contest, and drew back slowly 
into the city. Many valiant cavaliers were slain in this skir- 
mish, among the number of whom was Don Philip of Arragon, 
Master of the chivalry of St. George of Montesor; he was 
illegitimate son of the king's illegitimate brother Don Carlos, 
and his death was greatly bewailed by Ferdinand. He had 
formerly been archbishop of Palermo, but had doffed the cas- 
sock for the cuirass, and had thus, according to Fray Antonio 
Agapida, gained a glorious crown of martyrdom by falling in 
this holy war. 

The warm reception of his advanced guard by the old war- 
rior El Zagal, brought king Ferdinand to a pause : he encamped 
on the banks of the neighboring river Guadalquiton, and began 
to consider whether he had acted wisely in undertaking this 
campaign with his present force. His late successes had prob- 
ably rendered hun over-confident : El Zagal had again schooled 
him into his characteristic caution. He saw that the old war- 
rior was too formidably ensconced in Baza, to be dislodged by 
any thing except a powerful army and battering artillery ; and 
he feared, thafc should he persist in his invasion, some disaster 
might befall his army, either from the enterprise of the foe, or 
from a pestilence which prevailed in various parts of the coun- 
try. 

Ferdinand retired, therefore, from before Baza, as he had on 
a former occasion from before Loxa, all the wiser for a whole- 
some lesson in warfare, but by no means grateful to those who 
had given it, and with a solemn determination to have his re- 
venge upon his teachers. 

He now took measures for the security of the places gained 
in this campaign ; placing in them strong garrisons, well armed 
and supphed, charging their alcaydes to be vigilant on their 
posts and to give no rest to the enemy. The whole of the fron- 
tier was placed under the command of the brave Luis Fernan- 
dez Puerto Carrero. As it was evident,' from the warlike 
character of El Zagal, that there would be abundance of active 
service and hard fighting, many hidalgos and young cavaliers, 
eager for distinction, remained with Puerto Carrero. 

All these dispositions being made, king Ferdinand closed the 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 255 

dubious campaign of this year, not, as usual, by returning in 
triumph at the head of his army to some important city of his 
dominions, but by disbanding the troops, and repairing to pray 
at the cross of Caravaca. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

HOW THE MOORS MADE VARIOUS ENTERPRISES AGAINST THE 
CHRISTIANS. 

" While the pious king Ferdinand," observes Fray Antonio 
Agapida, '* was humbhng himself before the cro^, and devout- 
ly praying for the destruction of his enemies, that fierce pagan 
El Zagal, depending merely on his arm of flesh and sword of 
steel, pursued his diabohcal outrages upon the Christians." No 
sooner was the invading army disbanded, than El Zagal salhed 
forth from his strong-hold, and carried fire and sword into all 
those parts that had submitted to the Spanish yoke. Tlie castle 
of Nixar, being carelessly guarded, was taken by surprise, and 
its garrison put to the sword. The old warrior raged with 
sanguinary fury about the whole frontier, attacking convoys, 
slaying, wounding, and making prisoners, and coming by sur- 
prise upon the Christians wherever they were off their guard. 

The alcayde of the fortress of CuUar, confiding in the 
strength of its walls and towers, and in its difficult situation, 
being built on the summit of a lofty hill, and surrounded by 
precipices, ventured to absent himself from his post. The vigi- 
lant El Zagal was suddenly before it, with a powerful force : he 
stormed the town sword in hand, fought the Christians from 
street to street, and drove them, with great slaughter, to the 
citadel. Here a veteran captain, by the name of Juan de Ava- 
los, a gray -headed warrior scarred in many a battle, assumed 
the command and made an obstinate defence. Neither the mul- 
titude of the enemy, nor the vehemence of their attacks, though 
led on by the terrible El Zagal himself, had power to shake the 
fortitude of this doughty old soldier. 

The Moors undermined the outer walls and one of the towers 
of the fortress, and made their way into the exterior court. 
The alcayde manned the tops of his towers, pouring do^vn 
melted pitch, and showering darts, arrows, stones, and all 



256 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

kinds of missiles, upon the assailants. The Moors were driven 
out of the court ; but, being reinforced with fresh troops, re- 
turned repeatedly to the assault. For five days the combat 
was kept up : the Christians were nearly exhausted, but they 
were sustained by the cheerings of their staunch old alcayde ; 
and they feared death from the cruel El Zagal, should they 
surrender. At length the approach of a powerful force under 
Puerto Carrero relieved them from this fearful peril. El Zagal 
abandoned the assault, but set fire to the town in his rage and 
disappointment, and retired to his strong- hold of Guadix. 

The example of El Zagal roused his adherents to action. 
Two bold Moorish alcaydes, Ali Altar and Yza Altar, com- 
manding the fortresses of Alhenden and Salobreiia, laid waste 
the coimtry of the subjects of Boabdil, and the places which 
had recently submitted to the Christians: they swept off the 
cattle, carried off captives, and harassed the whole of the 
newly conquered frontier. 

The Moors also of Almeria, and Tavernas, and Purchena, 
made inroads into Mm^cia, and carried fire and sword into its 
most fertile regions. On the opposite frontier, also, among 
the wild valleys and rugged recesses of the Sierra Bormeja, or 
Eed Mountains, many of the Moors who had lately submitted 
again flew to arms. The marques of Cadiz suppressed by 
timely vigilance the rebellion of the mountain town of Gausin, 
situated on a liigh peak, almost among the clouds ; but others 
of the Moors fortified themselves in rock-built towers and 
castles, inhabited solely by warriors, from whence they car- 
ried on a continual war of forage and depredation ; sweeping 
suddenly down into the valleys, and carrying off flocks and 
herds and all kinds of booty to these eagle-nests, to which it 
was perilous and fruitless to pursue them. 

The worthy father Fray Antonio Agapida closes his history 
of this checkered year, in quite a different strain from those 
triumphant periods with which he is accustomed to wind up 
the victorious campaigns of the sovereigns. "G-reat and 
mighty," says this venerable chronicler, " were the floods and 
tempests which prevailed throughout the kingdoms of Castile 
and Arragon, about this time. It seemed as though the win- 
dows of Heaven were again opened, and a second deluge over- 
whelming the face of nature. The clouds burst as it were in 
cataracts upon the earth; torrents rushed down from the 
mountains, overflowing the valleys ; brooks were swelled into 
raging rivers; houses were undermined; mills were swept 



TllK CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 257 

away by their own streams ; the affrighted shepherds saw their 
flocks drowned in the midst of the pasture, and were fain to 
take refuge for their lives in towers and high places. The 
Guadalquivir for a time became a roaring and tumultuous sea, 
inundating the immense plain of the Zablada, and filling the 
lair city of Seville with affright. 

"A vast black cloud moved over the land, accompanied by a 
hurricane and a trembling of the earth. Houses were un- 
roofed, the walls and battlements of fortresses shaken, and 
lofty towers rocked to their foundations. Ships, riding at 
anchor, were either stranded or swallowed up; others, under 
sail, were tossed to and fro upon mountain waves, and cast 
upon the land, where the whirlwind rent them in pieces and 
scattered them in fragments in the air. Doleful was the ruin 
and great the terror, when this baleful cloud passed by ; and 
it left a long track of desolation over sea and land. Some of 
the faint-hearted,'' adds Antonio Agapida, "looked upon this 
torment of the elements as a prodigious event, out of the 
course of nature. In the weakness of their fears, they con- 
nected it with those troubles which occurred in various places, 
considering it a portent of some great calamity, about to be 
vvought by the violence of the bloody-handed El Zagal and 
his herce adherents." 



CHAPTER XXV. 



HOW KING FERDINAND PREPARED TO BESIEGE THE CITY OF BAZA 
AND HOW THE CITY PREPARED FOR DEFENCE. 

The stormy winter had passed away, and the spring of 148* 
was advancing ; yet the heavy rains had broken up the roads, 
the mountain brooks were swoln to raging torrents, and the 
late shallow and peaceful rivers were deep, turbulent, and 
dangerous. The Christian troops had been summoned to 
assemble in early spring on the frontiers of Jaen, but were 
slow in arriving at the appointed place. They were entangled 
in the miry defiles of the mountains, or fretted impatiently on 
tb'^ banks of impassable floods. It was late in the month of 
!Niciy, before they assembled in sufficient force to attempt the 
proposed invasion; when, at length, a valiant araiy, of thirteen 
thousand horse and forty thousand foot, marched merrfly over 



258 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

bhe border. The queen remained at the city of J aen, with the 
prince-royal and the princesses her children, accompanied and 
supported by the venerable cardinal of Spain, and those rev- 
erend prelates who assisted in her councils throughout this 
holy war. 

The plan of king Ferdinand was to lay siege to the city of 
Baza, the key of the remaining possessions of the Moor. That 
important fortress taken, Guadix and Almeria must soon 
iollow, and then the power of El Zagal would be at an end. 
As the Cathohc king advanced, he had first to secure various 
castles and strong-holds in the vicinity of Baza, which might 
otherwise harass his army. Some of these made obstinate 
resistance, especially the town of Cuxar. The Christians as- 
sailed the walls with various machines, to sap them and batter 
them down. The brave alcayde, Hubec Adalgan, opposed 
force to force and engine to engine. He manned his towers 
with his bravest warriors, who rained down an iron shower 
upon the enemy ; and he linked cauldrons together by strong 
chains, and cast fire from them, consuming the wooden engines 
of their assailants, and those who managed them. 

The siege was protracted for several days : the bravery of 
the alcayde could not save his fortress from an overwhelming 
foe, but it gained him honorable terms. Ferdinand permitted 
the garrison and the inhabitants to repair with their effects to 
Baza ; and the valiant Hubec Adalgan marched forth with the 
remnant of his force, and took the way to that devoted city. 

The delays which had been caused to the invading army by 
these various circumstances, had been diligently improved by 
the old Moorish monarch El Zagal ; who felt that he was now 
making his last stand for empire, and that this campaign 
would decide, whether he should continue a king, or sink into 
a vassal. El Zagal was but a few leagues from Baza, at the 
city of Guadix. This last was the most important point of his 
remaining territories, being a kind of bulwark between them 
and the hostile city of Granada, the seat of his nephew's 
power. Though he heard of the tide of war, therefore, that 
was collecting and roUing towards the city of Baza, he dared 
not go in person to its assistance. He dreaded that, should he 
leave Guadix, Boabdil would attack him in rear while the 
Christian army was battling with liim in front. El Zagal 
trusted in the great strength of Baza, to defy any violei^i; 
assault ; and he profited by the delays of the Christian army, 
to supply it with all possible means of defence. He sent 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 259 

thither all the troops he could spare from his garrison of 
Guadix, and dispatched missives throughout his territories, 
caUing upon true Moslems to hasten to Buza, to make a de- 
voted stand in defence of their homes, their liberties, and their 
reUgion. The cities of Tavernas and Purchena, and the sur- 
rounding heights and valleys, responded to his orders and sent 
forth their fighting men to the field. The rocky fastnesses of 
the Alpuxarras resounded with the din of arms: troops of 
horse and bodies of foot-soldiers were seen winding down the 
rugged clilfs and defiles of those marble mountains, and 
hastening towards Baza. Many brave cavaliers of Granada 
also, spurning the quiet and security of Christian vassalage, 
secretly left the city and hastened to join their fighting 
countrymen. The great dependence of El Zagal, however, was 
upon the valor and loyalty of his cousin and brother-in-law, 
Cidi Yahye Alnayar Aben Zelim, who was alcayde of Almeria, 
— a cavalier experienced in warfare, and redoubtable in the 
field. He wrote to him to leave Almeria, and repair, with all 
speed, at the head of liis troops, to Baza. Cidi Yahye departed 
immediately, with ten thousand of the bravest Moors in the 
kingdom. These were for the most part hardy mountaineers, 
tempered to sun and storm, and tried in many a combat. 
None equalled them for a sally or a skirmish. They were 
adroit in executing a thousand stratagems, ambuscadoes, and 
evolutions. Impetuous in their assaults, yet governed in their 
utmost fury by a word or sign fi'om their commander, at the 
sound of a trumpet they w^ould check themselves in the midst 
of their career, wheel off and disperse ; and at another sound 
of a trumpet, they would as suddenly re-assemble and return 
to the attack. They were upon the enemy when least ex- 
pected, coming like a rushing blast, spreading havoc and con- 
sternation, and then passing away in an instant ; so that when 
one recovered from the shock and looked around, behold noth- 
ing was to be seen or heard of this tempest of war, but a cloud 
of dust and the clatter of retreating hoofs. 

When Cidi Yahye led his train of ten thousand valiant 
warriors into the gates of Baza, the city rang with acclama- 
tions, and for a time the inliabitants thought themselves 
secure. El Zagal, also, felt a glow of confidence, notwith- 
standing his own absence from the city. "Cidi Yahye," said 
he, "is my cousin and my brother-in-law; related to me by 
blood and marriage, he is a second seK: happy is that mon- 
arch who has his kmdred to command his armies." 



260 ^'IIE CONQUEST OF (SRANADA. 

With all these reinforcements, the garrison of Baza amount' 
ed to above twenty thousand men. There were at this time 
tln-ee principal leaders in the city: — Mohammed ben Hassan, 
surnamed the veteran, who was military governor or alcayde, 
an old Moor of great experience and discretion; the second 
was Hamet Abu Zali, who was captain of the troops stationed 
in the place; and the third was Hubec Adalgan, the valiant 
alcayde of Cuxar, who had repaired hither with the remains 
of his garrison. Over all these Cidi Yahye exercised a su- 
preme command, in consequence of his being of the blood- 
royal, and in the especial confidence of Muley Abdallah el 
Zagal. He was eloquent and ardent in council, and fond of 
striking and splendid achievements; but he was a little prone 
to be carried away by the excitement of the moment, and the 
warmth of his imagination. The councils of war of these 
commanders, therefore, were more frequently controlled by 
the opinions of the old alcayde Mohammed ben Hassan, for 
whose shrewdness, caution, and experience, Cidi Yahye him- 
self felt the greatest deference. 

The city of Baza was situated in a great valley, eight leagues 
in length and three in breadth, called the Hoya, or basin of 
Baza. It was surrounded by a range of mountains, called the 
Sierra of Xabalcohol, the streams of which, collecting them- 
selves into two rivers, watered and fertiUzed the country. 
The city was built in the plain ; but one part of it was pro- 
tected by the rocky precipices of the mountain, and by a 
powerful citadel; the other part was defended by massive 
walls, studded with immense towers. It had suburbs towards 
the plain, imperfectly fortified by earthen walls. In front of 
these suburbs extended a tract of orchards and gardens nearly 
a league in length, so thickly planted as to resemble a con 
tinual forest. Here, every citizen who could afford it, had his 
little plantation, and his garden of fruits and flowers and 
vegetables, watered by canals and rivulets, and dominated by 
a small tower to serve for recreation or defence. This wil- 
demess of groves and gardens, intersected in aU parts by 
canals and runs of water, and studded by above a thousand 
small towers, formed a kind of protection to this side of the 
city, rendering all approach extremely difficult and perplexed, 
and affording covert to the defenders. 

While the Christian army had been detained before the fron- 
tier posts, the city of Baza had been a scene of hurried and 
unremitting preparation. AU the grain of the surrounding 



Tin: CONQUEST OF GRANADA. <2i){ 

valley, though yet unripe, was hastily reaped and borne into 
the city, to prevent it from yielding sustenance to the enemy. 
The country was drained of all its sui)plies ; flocks and herds 
were driven, bleating and bellowing, into the gates; long 
trains of beasts of burthen, some laden with food, others with 
lances, darts, and arms of all kinds, kept pouring ijito the 
place. Already there were munitions collected sufhcient for a 
siege of fifteen months ; yet still the eager and hasty prepara- 
tion was going on, when the army of Ferdinand came in sight. 

On one side might be seen scattered parties of foot and 
horse spurring to the gates, and muleteers hurrying forward 
their burthened animals, all anxious to get under shelter 
before the gathering storm; on the other side, the cloud of 
war came sweeping down the valley, the roll of drum or clang 
of trumpet resounding occasionally from its deep bosom, or 
the bright glance of arms flashing forth, hke vivid lightning, 
from its columns. King Ferdinand pitched his tents in the 
valley, beyond the green labyrinth of gardens. He sent his 
heralds to smnmon the city to surrender, promising the most 
favorable terms in case of immediate compliance, and avowing 
in the most solemn temis his resolution never to abandon the 
siege until he had possession of the place. 

Upon receiving this summons, the Moorish commanders held 
a council of war. The prince Cidi Yahye, indignant at the 
menace of the king, was for retorting by a declaration that 
the garrison never would surrender, but would fight until 
buried under the ruins of the walls. "Of what avail," said 
the veteran Mohammed, "is a declaration of the kind, which 
we may falsify by our deeds? Let us threaten what we know 
we can perfoiin, and let us endeavor to perform more than we 
threaten." 

In conformity to the advice of Mohammed ben Hassan, 
therefore, a laconic reply was sent to the Christian monarch, 
thanking him for his offer of favorable terms, but informing 
him they were placed in the city to defend, not to surrender it. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE BATTLE OF THE GARDENS BEFORE BAZA. 

When the reply of the Moorish commanders was brought to 
King Ferdinand, he prepared to press the siege with the utmost 



2Q2 '-CiiE COJS QUEST OF OR AN AD A. 

rigor. Finding the camp too far from the city, and that the 
intervening orchards afforded shelter for the sallies of the 
Moors, he determined to advance it beyond the gardens, in the 
space between them and the suburbs, where his batteries would 
have full play upon the city wails. A detachment was sent in 
advance, to take j)ossession of the gardens, and to keep a check 
upon the suburbs, opposing any sally, while the encampment 
should be formed and fortified. The various commanders en- 
tered the orchards at different points. The young cavaliers 
marched fearlessly forward, but the experienced veterans fore- 
saw infinite peril in the mazes of this verdant labyi'inth. The 
Master of St. Jago, as he led his troops into the centre of the 
gardens, exhorted them to keep by one another, and to press 
forward in defiance of all difficulty or danger; assuring them 
that God would give them the victory, if they attacked hardily 
and persisted resolutely. 

Scarce had they entered the verge of the orchards, when a 
din of drums and trumpets, mingled with war-cries, was heard 
from the suburbs, and a legion of Moorish warriors on foot 
poured forth. They were led on by the prince Cidi Yahye. He 
saw the imminent danger of the city, should the Christians 
gain possession of the orchards. "Soldiers," he cried, "we 
fight for life and liberty, for our families, our country, our 
religion ; * nothing is left for us to depend upon but the strength 
of our hands, the courage of our hearts, and the almighty pro- 
tection of Allah." The Moors answered him with shouts of war, 
and rushed to the encounter. The two hosts met in the midst 
of the gardens. A chance-medley combat ensued, with lances, 
arquebusses, cross-bows, and scimitars ; the perplexed nature of 
the ground, cut up and intersected by canals and streams, the 
closeness of the trees, the multiplicity of towers and petty edi- 
fices, gave greater advantages to the Moors, who were on foot, 
than to the Christians, who were on horseback. The Moors, 
too, knew the ground, with all its alleys and passes; and were 
thus enabled to lurk, to sally forth, to attack, and to retreat, 
almost without injury. 

The Christian commanders, seeing this, ordered many of the 
horsemen to dismount and fight on foot. The battle then be- 
came fierce and deadly, each disregarding his own Mfe, provided 
he could slay his enemy. It was not so much a general battle 

* " Illi (Mauri) pro fortiinis, pro libertate, pro laribus patriis, pro vita denique cer- 
tabant,"— Pi'efro Martyr, Epist. 70. 



y///-; coAQLf/uST OF a HA y ADA. on:j 

ns a iniiltitudc of petty actions ; for every orchard and garden 
liad its distinct contest. No one could see further than the htlle 
scene of fury and bloodshed around him, nor know how the 
general battle fared. In vain the captains exerted their voices, 
in vain the trumpets brayed forth signals and commands — all 
was confounded and unheard in the universal din and uproar. 
No one kept to his standard, but fought as his own fury or fear 
dictated. In some places the Christians had the advantage, in 
others the Moors ; often, a victorious party, pursuing the van- 
quished, came upon a superior and triumphant force of the 
enemy, and the fugitives turned back upon them in an over- 
whelming wave. Some broken remnants, in their terror and 
confusion, fled from their own countrymen and sought refuge 
among their enemies, not knowing friend from foe, in the 
obscurity of the groves. The Moors were more adroit in these 
wild skirmishings, from theii' flexibility, lightness, and agihty, 
and the rapidity with which they would disperse, rally, and 
return again to the charge.* 

The hardest fighting was about the small garden towers and 
pavQions, which served as so many petty fortresses. Each 
party by turns gained them, defended them fiercely, and were 
driven out; many of the towers were set on fire, and increased 
the horrors of the fight by the wreaths of smoke and flame in 
wliich they wrapped the groves, and by the shrieks of those 
who were burning. 

Several of the Christian cavaliers, bewildered by the uproar 
and confusion, and shocked at the carnage which prevailed, 
would have led their men out of the action; but they were 
entangled in a labyrinth, and knew not which way to retreat. 
While in this perplexity, the standard-bearer of one of the 
squadrons of the grand cardinal had his arm carried off by a 
cannon-ball ; the standard was well-nigh falling into the hands 
i of the enemy, when Roderigo de Mendoza, an intrepid youth, 
j natural son of the grand cardinal, rushed to its rescue, through 
a shower of balls, lances, and arrows, and, bearing it aloft, 
dashed forward with it into the hottest of the combat, followed 
by his shouting soldiery. 

King Ferdinand, who remained in the skirts of the orchard, 
was in extreme anxiety. It was impossible to see much of the 
action, for the multiplicity of trees and towers, and the wreaths 
ot smoke; and those who were driven out defeated, or came 

* Mariana, lib. 25, cap. 13. 



264 ^'^^ CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

out wounded and exhausted, gave different accounts, accord- 
ing to the fate of the partial conflicts in which they had been 
engaged. Ferdinand exerted himself to the utmosfc to animate 
and encourage his troops to this blind encounter, sending rein- 
forcements of horse and foot to those points where the battle 
was most sanguinary and doubtful. 

Among those who were brought forth mortally wounded was 
Don Juan de Luna, a youth of uncommon merit, greatly prized 
by the king, beloved by the army, and recently married to 
Donna Catalina de Urrea, a young lady of distinguished 
beauty.* They laid him at the foot of a tree, and endeavored 
to stanch and bind up his wounds with a scarf which his bride 
had wrought for him ; but his hf e-blood flowed too profusely ; 
and while a holy friar was yet administering to him the last 
sacred offices of the church, he expired, almost at the feet of 
his sovereign. 

On the other hand, the veteran alcayde Mohammed ben Has- 
san, surrounded by a little band of chieftains, kept an anxious 
eye upon the scene of combat from the walls of the city. For 
nearly twelve hours the battle had raged without intermission. 
The thickness of the fohage hid all the particulars from their 
sight; but they could see the flash of swords and glance of hel- 
mets among the trees. Columns of smoke rose in every direc- 
tion, while the clash of arms, the thundering of ribadoquines 
and arquebusses, the shouts and cries of the combatants, and 
the groans and supplications of the wounded, bespoke the 
deadly conflict that was waging in the bosom of the groves. 
They were harassed, too, by the shrieks and lamentations of 
the Moorish women and children, as their wounded relations 
were brought bleeding from the scene of action; and were 
stunned by a general outcry of woe on the part of the inhabi- 
tants, as the body of Redoan Zalfarga, a renegado Christian, 
and one of the bravest of their generals, was borne breathless 
into the city. 

At length the din of battle approached nearer to the skirts of 
the orchards. They beheld their warriors driven out from 
among the groves by fresh squadrons of the enemy, and, after 
disputing the ground inch by inch, obliged to retire to a place 
between the orchards and the suburbs, which was fortified 
with palisadoes. 

The Christians immediately planted opposing palisadoes, and 

* Mariana. P. Martyi*. Zurita. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 2(55 

established strong outposts near to this retreat of the Moors,- 
while, at the same time, king Ferdinand ordered that his en- 
campment should be pitched within the hard-won orchards. 

Mohammed ben Hassan salhed forth to the aid of the princo 
Cidi Yahye, and made a desperate attempt to dislodge tho 
enemy from this formidable position: but the night had closed, 
and the darkness rendered it impossible to make any impres- 
sion. The Moors, however, kept up constant assaults and 
alarms, throughout the night; and the weary Clu-istians, ex- 
hausted by the toils and sufferings of the day, were not allowed 
a moment of repose.* 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

SIEGE OF ©AZ A— EMBARRASSMENTS OF THE ARMY. 

The morning sun rose upon a piteous scene, before the walls 
of Baza. The Christian outposts, harassed throughout the 
night, were pale and haggard ; while the multitudes of slain 
which lay before their palisadoes, showed the fierce attacks 
they had sustained, and the bravery of their defence. 

Beyond them lay the groves and gardens of Baza ; once, the 
favorite resorts for recreation and delight— now, a scene of 
horror and desolation. The towers and pavilions were smok* 
ing ruins ; the canals and water-com*ses were discolored with 
blood, and choked with the bodies of the slain. Here and 
there, the ground, deep dinted with the tramp of man and 
steed, and plashed and slippery with gore, showed where there 
had been some fierce and mortal conflict; while the bodies of 
Moors and Clu-istians, ghastly in death, lay half concealed 
among the matted and trampled shrubs, and flowers, and 
herbage. 

Amidst these sanguinary scenes arose the Christian tents, 
which had been hastily pitched among the gardens in the pre^ 
ceding evening. The experience of the night, however, and 
the forlorn aspect of every thing in the morning, convinced 
king Ferdinand of the perils and hardships to wliich his camp 
must be exposed, in its present situation ; and, after a consul- 



* Pulgar, part 3, cap. 106, 107. Cura de los Palacios, cap. 93. Zurita, lib, 20, 
«ap. 81. 



266 27£E^ CONQUEST OF QBANADA. 

tation with his principal cavaliers, he resolved to abandon the 
orchards. 

It was a dangerous movement, to extricate his army from 
so entangled a situation, in the face of so alert and daring an 
enemy. A bold front was therefore kept up towards the city ; 
additional troops were ordered to the advanced posts, and 
works begun as if for a settled encampment. Not a tent was 
struck in the gardens ; but in the mean time, the most active 
and unremitting exertions were made to remove all the bag- 
gage and furniture of the camp back to the original station. 

AU day, the Moors beheld a formidable show of war main- 
tained in front of the gardens ; while in the rear, the tops of 
the Christian tents, and the pennons of the different com- 
manders, were seen rising above the groves. Suddenly, to- 
wards evening, the tents sunk and disappeared : the outposts 
broke up their stations and withdrew, and the whole shadow 
of an encampment was fast vanishing from their e^es. 

The Moors saw too late the subtle manoeuvre of kuig Ferdi- 
nand. Cidi Yahye again sallied forth with a large force of 
horse and foot, and pressed furiously upon the Christians. 
The latter, however, experienced in Moorish attack, retired in 
close order, sometimes turning upon the enemy and driving 
them to their barricadoes, and then pursuing their retreat. In 
this way the army was extricated, without much further loss, 
from the perilous labyrinths of the gardens. 

The camp was now out of danger ; but it was also too distant 
from the city to do mischief, while the Moors could sally forth 
and return without hindrance. The king called a council of 
war, to consider in what manner to proceed. The marques c ■" 
Cadiz was for abandoning the siege for the present, the pla^ 
being too strong, too well garrisoned and provided, and too ex 
tensive, to be either carried by assault or invested and reduced 
by famine, with their limited forces ; while, in lingering before 
it, the army would be exposed to the usual maladies and suf- 
ferings of besieging armies, and, when the rainy season came 
on, would be shut up by the swelling of the rivers. He recom- 
mended, instead, that the king should throw garrisons of horse 
and foot mto all the towns captured in the neighborhood, and 
leave them to keep up a predatory war upon Baza, while he 
should overrun and ravage all the country; so that, in the fol- 
lo^ving year, Almeria and Guadix, having all their subject 
towns and territories Laken from them, might be starved into 
submission. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. ' 2G7 

Don Guticre de Cardenas, senior commander of Leon, on the 
other hand, maintained that to abandon the siege would be 
construed by the enemy into a sign of weakness and irresolu- 
tion. It would give new spirits to the partisans of El Zagal, 
and would gain to his standard many of the wavering subjects 
of Boabdil, if it did not encourage the fickle populace of Gra- 
nada to open rebellion. He advised therefore that the siege 
should be prosecuted with vigor. 

The pride of Ferdinand pleaded in favor of the last opinion ; 
for it would be doubly humiliating, again to return from a 
campaign in this part of the Moorish kingdom, without effect- 
ing a blow. But when he reflected on all that his army had 
suffered, and on all that they must suffer should the siege con- 
tinue — especially from the diflSculty of obtaining a regular sup- 
ply of provisions for so numerous a host, across a great extent 
of rugged and mountainous country — he determined to consult 
the safety of liis people, and to adopt the advice of the marques 
of Cadiz. 

When the soldiery heard that the king was about to raise 
the siege in mere consideration of their sufferings, they were 
filled with generous enthusiasm, and entreated, as with one 
voice, that the siege might never be abandoned until the city 
surrendered. 

Perplexed by conflicting counsels, the king dispatched mes- 
sengers to the queen at Jaen, requesting her advice. Posts 
had been stationed between them, in such manner that mis- 
sives from the camp could reach the queen within ten hours. 
Isabella sent instantly her reply. She left the policy of raising 
or continuing the siege to the decision of the king and his cap- 
tains ; but should they determine to persevere, she pledged her- 
self, with the aid of God, to forward them men, money, pro- 
visions, and all other supplies, until the city should be taken. 

The reply of the queen determined Ferdinand to persevere ; 
and when his determination was made known to the army, it 
was hailed with as much joy as if it had been tidings of a 
victory. 



268 TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA, 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

SIEGE OF BAZA CONTINUED— HOW KING FERDINAND COMPLETELY 
INVESTED THE CITY. 

The Moorish prince Cidi Yahye had received tidings of the 
doubts and discussions in the Christian camj), and flattered 
himself with hopes that the besieging army would soon retire 
in despair, though the veteran alcayde Mohammed shook his 
head with incredulity at the suggestion. A sudden movement, 
one morning, in the Christian camp, seemed to confirm the 
sanguine hopes of the prince. The tents were struck, the ar- 
tillery and baggage were conveyed away, and bodies of soldiers 
began to march along the valley. The momentary gleam of 
triumph was soon dispelled. The Cathohc king had merely 
divided his host into two camps, the more effectually to dis- 
tress the city. One, consisting of four thousand horse and 
eight thousand foot, with all the artillery and battering en- 
gmes, took post on the side of the city towards the mountain. 
This was commanded by the valiant marques of Cadiz, with 
whom were Don Alonzo de Aguilar, Luis Fernandez Puerto 
Carrero, and many other distinguished cavaliers. 

The other camp was conmianded by the king, having six 
thousand horse and a great host of foot-soldiers, the hardy 
mountaineers of Biscay, Guipuscon, Gallicia, and the Asturias. 
Among the cavaliers who were with the king were the brave 
count de Tendilla, Don Roderigo de Mendoza, and Don Alonzo 
de Cardenas, Master of Santiago. The two camps were wide 
asunder, on opposite sides of the city, and between them lay 
the thick wilderness of orchards. Both camps werf^ therefore 
fortified by great trenches, breastworks, and palisadoes. The 
veteran Mohammed, as he saw these two formidable camps 
ghttering on each side of the city, and noted the well-known 
pennons of renowned commanders fluttering above them, still 
comforted his companions: "These camps," said he, "are too 
far removed from each other, for mutual succor and co-opera- 
tion; and the forest of orchards is as a gulf between them." 
This consolation was but of short continuance. Scarcely were 
the Christian camps fortified, when the ears of the Moorish 
garrison were startled by the sound of innumerable axes, and 
the crash of f aUen trees. They looked with anxiety from then' 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 260 

highest towers, and behold, their favorite groves were sinking 
beneath the blows of the Christian pioneers. The Moors sallied 
forth with fiery zeal to protect their beloved gardens, and the 
orchards in which they so much delighted. The Christians, 
however, were too well supported to be driven from their worlc. 
Day after day, the gardens became the scene of incessant and 
bloody skirmishings; yet still the devastation of the groves 
went on, for king Ferdinand was too well aware of the neces- 
sity of clearing away this screen of woods, not to bend all his 
forces to the undertaking. It was a work, however, of gigantic 
toil and patience. The trees were of such magnitude, and so 
closely set together, and spread over so wide an extent, that, 
notwithstanding four thousand men were employed, they 
could scarcely clear a strip of land ten paces broad within a 
day; and such were the interruptions from the incessant 
assaults of the Moors, that it was full forty days before the 
orchards were completely levelled. 

The devoted city of Baza now lay stripped of its beautiful 
covering of groves and gardens, at once its ornament, its 
delight, and its protection. The besiegers went on slowly and 
surely, with almost incredible labors, to invest and isolate the 
city. They connected their camps by a deep trench across the 
plain, a league in length, into which they diverted the waters 
of the mountain streams. They protected this trench by pali 
sadoes, fortified by fifteen castles, at regular distances. They 
dug a deep trench, also, two leagues in length, across the 
mountain in the rear of the city, reaching from camp to camp, 
and fortified it on each side with walls of earth, and stone, and 
wood. Thus the Moors were inclosed on all sides by trenches, 
palisadoes, walls, and castles; so that it was impossible for 
them to sally beyond this great line of circumvallation— nor 
couM any force enter to their succor. Ferdinand made an 
attempt, likewise, to cut off the supply of water from the city ; 

f r water," observes the worthy Agapida, "is more neces- 
sary to these infidels than bread, making use of it m repeated 

ily ablutions enjoined by their damnable religion, and em- 
ploying it in baths and in a thousand other idle and extrava- 
gant modes, of which we Spaniards and Christians make but 
little account." 

There was a noble fountain of pure water, which gushed out 
at the foot of the hill Albohacen, just behind the city. The 
Jtfoors had almost a superstitious fondness for this fountain, 
and chiefly depended upon it for their supplies. Receiving in' 



270 THE CONQUEST OF GllANADA. 

timation from some deserters, of the plan of king Ferdinand to 
get possession of this precious fomitain, they saUied forth at 
night, and threw up such powerful works upon the impending 
hill, as to set all attempts of the Christian assailants at 
defiance. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 



EXPLOIT OF HERNANDO PEREZ DEL PULGAR AND OTHER 
CAVALIERS. 

The siege of Baza, while it displayed the skill and science of 
the Christian commanders, gave but little scope for the adven- 
turous spirit and fiery valor of the young Spanish cavaliers. 
They repined at the tedious monotony and dull security of their 
fortified camp, and longed for some soul-stirring exploit of diffi- 
cidty and danger. Two of the most spirited of these youth- 
ful cavaliers were Francisco de Bazan and Antonio de Cueva, 
the latter of whom was son to the duke of Albuquerque. 
As they were one day seated on the ramparts of the camp, and 
venting their impatience at this life of inaction, they were 
overheard by a veteran adalid, one of those scouts or guides 
who are acquainted with all parts of the country. "Sciiors," 
said he, " if you wish for a service of peril and profit, if you 
are willing to pluck the fiery old Moor by the beard, I can lead 
you to where you may put your mettle to the proof. Hard by 
the city of Guadix, are certain hamlets rich in booty. I can 
conduct you by a way in which you may come upon them 
by surprise ; and if you are as cocl in the head, as you are hot 
in the spur, j^ou may bear off your spoils from under the very 
eyes of old El Zagal. " 

The idea of thus making booty at the very gates of Guadix, 
pleased the hot-spirited youths. These predatory excursions 
were frequent about this time; and the Moors of Padul, Alhen- 
den, and other towns of the Alpuxarras, had recently harassed 
the Christian territories by expeditions of the kind. Francisco 
de Bazan and Antonio de Cueva soon found other young cava- 
liers of their age, eager to join in the adventure ; and in a little 
while, they had nearly three hundred horse and two hundred 
foot, ready equipped and eager for the foray. 

Keeping their destination secret, they sallied out of the camp 



THE CONQUEST OF GllANADA. '2'.\ 

on the edge of an evening, and, guided by the adahd, made 
their way by star-hght through the most secret roads of tlio 
mountains. In this way they pressed on rapidly day and 
night, until early one morning, before cock-crowing, they fell 
suddenly upon the hamlets, made prisoners of the inhabitants, 
sacked the houses, ravaged the fields, and, sweeping through 
the meadows, gathered together all the flocks and herds. 
Without giving themselves time to rest, they set out upon their 
return, making with all speed for the mountains, before the 
alarm should be given and the country roused. 

Several of the herdsmen, however, had fled to Guadix, and 
carried tidings of the ravage to El Zagal. The beard of old 
Muley trembled with rage ; he immediately sent out six hun- 
dred of his choicest horse and foot, Avith orders to recover 
the booty, and to bring those insolent marauders captive to 
Guadix. 

The Christian cavaliers were urging their cavalgada of cat- 
tle and sheep up a mountain, as fast as their own weariness 
would permit, when, looking back, they beheld a great cloud 
of dust, and presently descried the turbaned host hot upon 
their traces. 

They saw that the Moors were superior in number; they 
were fresh also, both man and steed, whereas both they and 
their horses were fatigued by two days and two nights of hard 
marching. Several of the horsemen therefore gathered round 
the commanders, and proposed that they should relinquish 
their spoil, and save themselves by flight. The captains, 
Francisco de Bazan and Antonio de Cueva, spurned at such 
craven counsel. "What!" cried they, "abandon our prey 
without striking a blow? Leave our foot-soldiers too in the 
lurch, to be overwhelmed by the enemy? If any one gives 
such counsel through fear, he mistakes the course of safety ; 
for there is less danger in presenting a bold front to the foe, 
than in turning a dastard back ; and fewer men are killed in a 
brave advance, than in a cowardly retreat." 

Some of the cavaliers were touched by these words, and de- 
clared that they would stand by the foot-soldiers Hke true 
companions in arms: the gi'eat mass of the party, however, 
were volunteers, brought together by chance, who received no 
pay, nor had any common tie to keep them together in time 
of danger. The pleasure of the expedition being over, each 
thought but of his own safety, regardless of his companions. 
As the enemy approached, the tumult of opinions increased, 



272 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

and every tMng was in confusion. The captains, to put an 
end to the dispute, ordered the standard-bearer to advance 
against the Moors, well knowing that no true cavalier would 
hesitate to follow and defend his banner. The standard-bearer 
hesitated — the troops were on the point of taking to flight. 

Upon this, a cavalier of the royal guards, named Hernando 
Perez del Pulgar, alcayde of the fortress of Salar, rode to the 
front. He took off a handkerchief which he wore round his 
head, after the Andalusian fashion, and, tying it to the end of 
his lance, elevated it in the air. " Ca-valiers," cried he, "why 
do ye take weapons in your hands, if you depend upon your 
feet for safety? This day will determine who is the brave 
man, and who the coward. He who is disposed to fight, shall 
not want a standard: let him follow this handkerchief." So 
saying, he waved his banner, and spurred bravely against the 
Moors. His example shamed some, and filled others with gen- 
erous emulation: all turned with one accord, and, following 
the valiant Pulgar, rushed with shouts upon the enemy. The 
Moors scarcely waited to receive the shook of their encounter. 
Seized with a sudden panic, they took to flight, and were pur- 
sued for a considerable distance, v>ath great slaughter. Three 
hundred of their dead strewed the road, and were stripped 
and despoiled by the conquerors ; many were taken prisoners, 
and the Christian cavahers returned in triumph to the camp, 
with a long cavalgada of sheep and cattle, and mules laden 
with booty, and bearing before them the singular standard 
which had conducted them to victory. 

When king Ferdinand was informed of the gallant action of 
Hernando Perez del Pulgar, he immediately conferred on him 
the honor of knighthood, and ordered, that in memory of his 
achievement, he should bear for arms a lance with a handker- 
chief at the end of it, together with a castle and twelve lions. 
This is but one of many hardy and heroic deeds done by this 
brave cavaher, in the wars against the Moors ; by which he 
gained great renown, and the distinguished appellation of "El 
de las hazanas," or " He of the exploits." * 



* Hernando del Pulgar, the historian, secretary to queen Isabella, is confounded 
with this cavalier, by some writers. He was also present at the siege of Baza, and 
has recounted this transaction in his chronicle of the Catholic sovereigns Ferdinand 
and Isabella. 






TIIK CONQUKSl' OF GRANADA, 273 

CHAPTER XXX. 

CONTINUATION OF THE SIEGE OF BAZA. 

The old Moorish king El Za.gal mounted a tower and looked 
out eagerly to enjoy the sight of the Christian marauders 
brought captive into the gates of Guadix; but his spirits fell, 
when he beheld his own troops stealing back in the dusk of 
the evening, in broken and dejected parties. 

The fortune of war bore hard against the old monarch ; his 
mind was harassed by the disastrous tidings brought each day 
from Baza, of the sufferings of the inhabitants, and the num- 
bers of the garrison slain in the frequent skirmishes. He 
dared not go in person to the rehef of the place, for his pre- 
sence was necessary in Guadix, to keep a check upon his 
nephew in Granada. He made efforts to send reinforcements 
and supplies ; but they were intercepted, and either captured 
or driven back. Still his situation was in some respects pre- 
ferable to that of his nephew Boabdil. The old monarch was 
battling like a warrior, on the last step of his throne ; El Chico 
remained a kind of pensioned vassal, in the luxurious abode of 
the Alhambra. The chivalrous part of the inhabitants of 
Granada could not but compare the generous stand made by 
the warriors of Baza for their country and their faith, with 
their own timeserving submission to the yoke of an unbeliever. 
Every account they received of the woes of Baza, wrung their 
hearts with agony ; every account of the exploits of its devoted 
defenders, brought blushes to their cheeks. Many stole forth 
secretly with their weapons, and hastened to join the besieged ; 
and the partisans of El Zagal wrought upon the patriotism and 
passions of the remainder, until another of those conspiracies 
was formed, that were continually menacing the unsteady 
throne of Granada. It was concerted by the conspirators, to 
assail the Alhambra on a sudden; to slay Boabdil; to assemble 
all the troops, and march to Guadix ; where, being reinforced 
by the garrison of that place, and led on by the old warrior 
monarch, they might fall with overwhelming power upon the 
Christian army before Baza. 

Fortunately for Boabdil, he discovered the conspiracy in 
time, and had the heads of the leaders struck off, and placed 
upon the walls of the Alhambra, — an act of severity unusual 



274 ^'^^^' CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

with this mild and wavering monarch, which struck terror 
into the disaffected, and produced a kind of mute tranquillity 
throughout the city. 

King Ferdmand had full information of all these movements 
and measures for the relief of Baza, and took timely precau- 
tions to prevent them. Bodies of horsemen held watch in the 
mountain passes, to prevent all supplies, and to intercept any 
generous volunteers from Granada; and watch-towers were 
erected, or scouts were placed on every commanding height, 
to give the alarm at the least sign of a hostile turban. 

The prince Cidi Yahye and his brave companions in arms, 
were thus gradually walled up, as it were, from the rest of the 
world. A hne of towers, the battlements of which bristled 
with troops, girdled their city; and behind the intervening 
bulwarks and palisadoes, passed and repassed continual squa- 
drons of troops. Week after week, and month after month, 
passed away, but Ferdinand waited in vain for the garrison 
to be either terrified or starved into surrender. E\^ery day 
they sallied forth with the spirit and alacrity of troops high 
fed, and flushed with confidence. "The Christian monarch," 
said the veteran Mohammed ben Hassan, "builds his hopes 
upon our growing faint and desponding— we must manifest 
unusual cheerfulness and vigor. What would be rashness in 
other service, becomes prudence with us." The prince Cidi 
Yahye agreed with him in opinion, and sallied forth with his 
troops upon all kinds of harebrained exploits. They laid am- 
bushes, concerted surprises, and made the most desperate as- 
saults. The great extent of the Christian works rendered 
them weak in many parts : against these the Moors directed 
their attacks, suddenly breaking into them, making a hasty 
ravage, and bearing off their booty in triumph to the city. 
Sometimes they would sally forth by the passes and clefts of 
the mountain in the rear of the city, which it was difficult to 
guard, and, hurrying down into the plain, would sweep off all 
cattle and sheep that were grazing near the suburbs, and all 
stragglers from the camp. 

These partisan sallies brought on many sharp and bloody 
encounters, in some of which Don Alonzo de Aguilar and the 
alcayde dc los Donzeles distingiiished themselves greatly. 
During one of these hot skirmishes, which happened on the 
skirts of the mountain, about twilight, a valiant cavalier, 
named Martin Galindo, beheld a powerful Moor dealing 
deadly blows about him, and. making great havoc among the 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 275 

Christians. Galindo pressed forward, and challenged him to 
single combat. The Moor, who was of the valiant tribe of the 
Abencerrages, was not slow in answering the call. Couching 
their lances, they rushed furiously upon each other. At the 
first shock the Moor was wounded in the face, and borne out 
of his saddle. Before Galindo could check his steed, and turn 
from his career, the Moor sprang upon his feet, recovered his 
lance, and, rushing upon him, wounded him in the head and 
the arm. Though Galindo was on horseback and the Moor on 
foot, yet such was the prowess and address of the latter, that 
the Christian knight, being disabled in the arm, was in the 
utmost peril, when his comrades hastened to his assistance. 
At their approach, the valiant pagan retreated slowly up the 
rocks, keeping them at bay, until he found himself among his 
companions. 

Several of the young Spanish cavaliers, stung by the triumph 
of this Moslem knight, would have challenged others of the 
Moors to single combat; but king Ferdinand prohibited all 
vaunting encounters of the kind. He forbade his troops, also, 
to provoke skirmishes, well knowing that the Moors were 
more dexterous than most people in this irregular mode of 
fighting, and were better acquainted with the ground. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 



How TWO FRIARS ARRIVED AT THE CAMP, AND HOW THEY CAME 
FROM THE HOLY LAND. 

"While the holy Christian army (says Fray Antonio Aga- 
pida) was thus beleaguring this infidel city of Baza, there rode 
into the camp, one day, two reverend friars of the order of 
Saint Francis. One was of portly person, and authoritative 
air: he bestrode a goodly steed, well conditioned and well 
caparisoned; while his companion rode beside him, upon a 
humble hack, poorly accoutred, and, as he rode, he scarcehv' 
raised his eyes from the ground, but maintained a meek and 
lowly air. 

The arrival of two friars in the camp was not a matter of 
nuch note, for in these holy wars the church militant con- 
tinually mingled in the affray, and helmet and cowl were 



276 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

always seen together; but it was soon discovered that these 
worthy saints-errant were from a far country, a.nd on a mis- 
sion of great import. 

They were, in truth, just arrived from the Holy Land, being 
two of the saintly men who kept vigil over the sepulchre of our 
blessed Lord at Jerusalem. He of the tall and portly form and 
commanding presence, was Fray Autonio Millan, prior of the 
Franciscan convent in the holy city. He had a full and florid 
countenance, a sonorous voice, and was round, and swelKng, 
and copious in his periods, like one accustomed to harangue, 
and to be listened to with deference. His companion was 
small and spare in form, pale of visage, and soft and silken and 
almost whispering in speech. "He had a humble and lowly 
way," says Agapida, "evermore bowing the head, as became 
one of his calling. " Yet he was one of the most active, zeal- 
ous, and effective brothers of the convent ; and when he raised 
his small black eye from the earth, there was a keen glance 
out of the corner, which showed, that though harmless as a 
dove, he was nevertheless as wise as a serpent. 

These holy men had come on a momentous embassy from the 
grand soldan of Egypt ; or, as Agapida terms him in the lan- 
guage of the day, the soldan of Babylon. The league which had 
been made between that potentate and his arch-foe the Grand- 
Turk Bajazet II. , to unite in arms for the salvation of Granada, 
as has been mentioned in a previous chapter of this chronicle, 
had come to nought. The infidel princes had again taken up 
arms against each other, and had relapsed into their ancient 
hostility. Still the grand soldan, as head of the whole Moslem 
sect, considered himself bound to preserve the kingdom of 
Granada from the grasp of unbelievers. He dispatched, there- 
fore, these two holy friars with letters to the Castilian sove- ! 
reigns, as well as to the pope and to the king of Naples, remon- i 
strating against the evils done to the Moors of the kingdom of \ 
Granada, who were of his faith and kindred ; whereas it was i 
weU known that great numbers of Christians were indulged i 
and protected in the full enjoyment of their property, their I 
liberty, and their faith, in his dominions. He insisted, there- ) 
fore, that this war should cease ; that the Moors of Granada 
should be reinstated in the territory of which they had been 
dispossessed ; otherwise he threatened to put to death all the 
Christians beneath his sway, to demolish their convents and 
temples, and to destroy the holy sepulchre. 

This fearful menace had spread consternation among the 



THE COJS'QUEST OF GllAyADA. 977 

Christians of Palestine; and when the intrepid Fray Antonio 
Millan and his lowly companion departed on their mission, 
they were accompanied far from the gates of Jerusalem by an 
anxious throng of brethren and disciples, who remained watch- 
ing them with tearful eyes, as they journeyed over the plains 
of Judea. 

These holy ambassadors were received with great distinction 
by king Ferdinand ; for men of their cloth had ever high honor 
and consideration in his court. He had long and frequent con- 
vei-sations with them, about the Holy Land ; the state of the 
Christian church in the dominions of the grand soldan, and of 
the policy and conduct of that arch-infidel towards it. The 
portly prior of the Franciscan convent w^as full, and round, 
and oratorical, in liis replies ; and the king expressed himself 
much pleased with the eloquence of his periods ; but the politic 
monarch was observed to lend a close and attentive ear to the 
whispering voice of the lowly companion, "whose discourse," 
adds Agapida, "though modest and low, was clear and fluent, 
and full of subtle wisdom." These holy friars had visited 
Rome in their journeying, where they had delivered the letter 
of the soldan to the sovereign pontiff. His holiness had writ- 
ten by them to the Castilian sovereigns, requesting to know 
what reply they had to offer to this demand of the oriental 
potentate. 

The king of Naples also wrote to them on the subject, but 
in wary terms He inquired into the cause of this war with 
the Moors of Granada, and expressed great marvel at its 
events, as if (saj^s Agapida) both were not notorious through- 
out all the Christian world. "Nay," adds the worthy friar 
with becoming indignation, "he uttered opinions savoring of 
little better than damnable heresy; — for he observed, that 
although the Moors were of a different sect, they ought not to 
be maltreated without just cause ; and hinted that if the Cas- 
tilian sovereigns did not suffer any crying injury from the 
Moors, it would be improper to do any thing which might 
draw great damage upon the Christians : as if, when once the 
sword of the faith was drawn, it ought ever to be sheathed 
until this scum of heathendom were utterly destrovv^d or 
driven from the land. But this monarch," he continues, "wap 
more kindly disposed towards the infidels than was honest and 
hopeful in a Christian prince, and was at that very time in 
league with the soldan against their common enemy the 
Grand-Turk." 



278 ^'^^^' co^'quK;<T of or an ad a. 

These pious sentiments of the truly Catholic Agapida, ar^ 
echoed by Padre Mariana, in his history;* but the worthy 
chronicler Pedro Abarca attributes the interference of the 
king of Naples, not to lack of orthodoxy in religion, but to an 
excess of worldly policy; he being apprehensive that, should 
Ferdinand conquer the Moors of Granada, he might have time 
and means to assert a claim of the house of Arragon to the 
crown of Naples. 

"King Ferdinand," continues the worthy father Pedro Abar- 
ca, ' ' was no less master of dissimulation than his cousin of 
Naples ; so he replied to him with the utmost suavity of man- 
ner, going into a minute and patient vindication of the war, 
and taking great apparent pains to inform him of those things 
which all the world knew, but of which the other pretended to 
be ignorant."! At the same time he soothed his solicitude 
about the fate of the Christians in the empire of the grand 
soldan, assuring him that the great revenue extorted from 
them in rents and tributes, would be a certain protection 
against the threatened violence. 

To the pope he made the usual vindication of the war ; that 
it was for the recovery of ancient territory, usurped by the 
Moors ; for the punishment of wars and violences inflicted upon 
the Christians ; and finally, that it was a holy crusade for the 
glory and advancement of the church. 

"It was a truly edifying sight," says Agapida, "to behold 
these friars, after they had had their audience of the king, 
moving about the camp always surroimded by nobles and 
cavaliers of high and martial renown. These were insatiable 
in their questions about the Holy Land, the state of the sepul- 
chre of our Lord, and the sufferings of the devoted brethren 
who guarded it, and the pious pilgrims who resorted there to 
pay their vows. The portly prior of the convent would stand 
with lofty and shining countenance in the midst of these iron 
warriors, and declaim with resounding eloquence on the his- 
tory of the sepulchre ; but the humbler brother would ever and 
anon sigh deeply, and in low tones utter some tale of suffering 
and outrage, at which his steel-clad hearers would grasp the 
hilts of their swords, and mutter between their clenched teeth 
prayers for another crusade." 

The pious friars, halving finished their mission to the king, 



* Mariana, lib. 25, cap. 15. 

t Abarca, Anales de Aragon, Rey xxx. cap. 3. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 279 

and been treated with all due distinction, took their leave and 
wended their way to Jaen, to visit the most Catholic of queens. 
Isabella, whose heart was the seat of piety, received them as 
sacred men, invested with more than human dignity. During 
their residence at Jaen, they were continually in the royal 
presence; the respectable prior of the convent moved and 
melted the ladies of the court by his florid rhetoric, but his 
lowly companion was observed to have continual access to the 
royal ear. That saintly and soft-spoken messenger (says Aga- 
pida) received the reward of his humility; for the queen, 
moved by his frequent representations, made in all modesty 
and lowliness of spirit, granted a yearly sum in perpetuity, of 
one thousand ducats in gold, for the support of the monks of 
the convent of the holy sepulchre.* 

Moreover, on the departure of these holy ambassadors, the 
excellent and most Cathohc queen deUvered to them a veil 
devoutly embroidered with her own royal hands, to be placed 
over the holy sepulchre;— a precious and inestimable present, 
which called forth a most eloquent tribute of thanks from the 
portly prior, but which brought tears into the eyes of his lowly 
companion.! 



* " La Reyna dio a los Frayles mil ducados de renta cado ano para el sustanto de 
los relig'iosos del santo sepulcro, que es la mejor limosna y sustanto que hasta nu- 
estros dias ha quedado a estos religiosas de Gerusalem: para donde les dio la Reyna 
un velo labrado por sus manos, para poner encima de la santa sepultura del 
Seiior."— (rariftai/, Conipend. Hist. lib. 18, cap. 36. 

tlt^is proper to mention the result of this mission of the two friars, and which 
the worthy Agapida has neglected to record. At a subsequent period, the Catholic 
sovereigns sent the distinguished histoi'ian, Pietro Martyr, of Angleria, as ambassa- 
dor to the grand soldan. That able man made such representations as were per- 
fectly satisfactory' to the oriental potentate. He also obtained from him the re- 
mission of many exactions and extortions heretofore practised upon Christian 
pilgrims visiting the holy sepulchre; which, it is presumed, had been gently but 
cogently detailed to the monarch by the lowly friar. Pietro Martyr wrote an ac- 
count of his embassy to the grand soldan— a work greatly esteemed bj' the learned, 
and containing much curious information. It is entitled, De Legatione Babylonica. 



280 THE COKQUEST OF GRANADA, 



CHAPTEE XXXTI. 

HOW QUEEN ISABELLA DEVISED MEANS TO SUPPLY THE ARMY 
WITH PROVISIONS. 

It has been the custom to iaud the conduct and address of 
king Ferdinand, in this most arduous and protracted war ; but 
the sage Agapida is more disposed to give credit to the coun- 
sels and measures of the queen, who, he observes, though less 
ostensible in action, was in truth the very soul, the vital prin- 
ciple, of this great enterprise. While king Ferdinand was 
bustling in his camp and making a glittering display with his 
gallant chivalry, she, surrounded by her saintly counsellors, 
in the episcopal palace of Jaen, was devising ways and means 
to keep the king and his army in existence. She had pledged 
herself to keep up a supply of men, and money, and provi- 
sions, until i}he city should be taken. The hardships of the 
siege caused a fearful waste of life, but the supply of men was 
the least difhcult part of her undertaking. So beloved was the 
queen by the chivalry of Spain, that on her calling on them for 
assistance, not a grandee or cavalier that yet lingered at home, 
but either repaired in person or sent forces to the camp ; the 
ancient and warlike famihes vied with each other in marshal- 
ling forth their vassals, and thus the besieged Moors beheld 
each day fresh troops arriving before their city, and new en- 
signs and pennons displayed, emblazoned with arms well 
known to the veteran warriors. 

But the most arduous task was to keep up a regular supply 
of provisions. It was not the army alone that had to be sup- 
ported, but also the captured towns and their garrisons ; for 
the whole country aromid them had been ravaged, and the 
conquerors were in danger of starving in the midst of the land 
they had desolated. To transport the daily supplies for such 
immense numbers, was a gigantic undertaking, in a country 
where there was neither water conveyance nor roads for car- 
riages. Every thing had to be borne by beasts of burthen over 
rugged and broken paths of the mountains, and through dan- 
gerous defiles, exposed to the attacks and plunderings of the 
Moors. 

The wary and calculating merchants, accustomed to supply 
the army, shrunk from engaging, at their own risk, in so 



TllK CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 281 

hazardous an undertaking. The queen therefore hired four- 
teen thousand beasts of burthen, and ordered all the wheat 
and barley to be bought up in Andalusia, and in the domains 
of the knip:hts of Santiago and Calatrava. She distributed the 
administration of these supplies among able and confidential 
persons. Some were employed to collect the grain ; others, to 
take it to the mills ; others, to superintend the grinding and 
delivery; and others, to convey it to the camp. To ev^ery two 
hundred animals a muleteer was allotted, to take charge of 
them on the route. Thus, great lines of convoys were in con- 
stant movement, traversing to and iro, guarded by large 
bodies of troops, to defend them from hovering parties of the 
Moors. Not a single day's intermission was allowed, for the 
army depended upon the constant arrival of these supplies for 
daily food. The grain, when brought into the camp, was 
deposited in an immense granary, and sold to the army at a 
fixed price, which was never either raised or lowered. 

Incredible were the expenses incurred in these suppHes ; but 
the queen had ghostly advisers, thoroughly versed in the art 
of getting at the resources of the country. Many worthy pre- 
lates opened the deep pm-ses of the church, and furnished 
loans from the revenues of their dioceses and convents ; and 
I their pious contributions were eventually rewarded by Provi- 
i dence an hundred fold. Merchants and other wealthy indi- 
viduals, confident of the punctual faith of the queen, advanced 
large sums on the security of her word ; many noble families 
lent their plate, without waiting to be asked. The queen also 
sold certain annual rents in inheritance at great sacrifices, 
assigning the revenue of towns and cities for the i:)ayment. 
Finding all this insufiicient to satisfy the enormous expendi- 
ture, she sent her gold and plate and all her jewels to the 
cities of Valentia and Barcelona, where they were pledged for 
great amount of money, which was immediately appro- 
priated to keep up the supplies of the army. 

Thus, through the wonderful activity, judgment, and enter- 
Iprise of tliis heroic and magnanimous woman, a great host, 
encamped in the heart of a warlike country, accessible only 
)ver mountain roads, was maintained in continual abundance, 
^or was it supplied merely with the necessaries and comforts 
)f life. The powerful escorts drew merchants and artificers 
rom ail parts, to repair, as if in caravans, to this great mili- 
iry market. In a little w^hile, the camp abounded with 



^82 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

and ostentation of the youthful chivahy. Here might be seen 
cunning artificers in steel, and accomplished armorers, achiev- 
ing those rare and sumptuous helmets and cuirasses, richly- 
gilt, inlaid, and embossed, in which the Spanish cavaliers 
delighted. Saddlers and harness-makers and horse-milliners, 
also, were there, whose tents glittered with gorgeous housings 
and caparisons. The merchants spread torth their sumptuous 
silks, cloths, brocades, fine hnen, and tapestry. The tents of 
the nobihty were prodigally decorated with all kinds of the 
richest stuffs, and dazzled the eye with their magnificence: 
nor could the grave looks and grave speeches of king Ferdi- 
nand prevent his youthful cavaliers from vying with each 
other in the splendor of their dresses and caparisons, on all 
occasions of parade and ceremony. 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

OF THE DISASTERS WHICH BEFELt THE CAMP. 

While the Christian camp, thus gay and gorgeous, spread 
itself out like a holyday pageant before the walls of Baza — 
while a long line of beasts of burthen, laden with provisions 
and luxuries, were seen descending the valley from morning 
till night, and pouring into the camp a continued stream of 
abundance, — the unfortunate garrison found their resources 
rapidly wasting away, and famine already began to pinch the 
peaceful part of the community. 

Cidi Yahye had acted with great spirit and valor, as long as 
there was any prospect of success ; but he began to lose his 
usual fire and animation, and was observed to pace the walls 
of Baza with a pensive air, casting many a wistful look 
towards the Christian camp, and sinking into profound reve- 
ries and cogitations. The veteran alcayde, Mohammed beii 
Hassan, noticed these desponding moods, and endeavored tc 
raUy the spirits of the prince. " The rainy season is at hand,' 
would he cry; "the floods will soon pour down from the 
mountains ; the rivers will overflow their banks, and inundate 
the valleys. The Christian king already begins to waver ; he 
dare not linger, and encounter such a season, in a plain cut 
uj) by canals and rivulets. A single wintry storm from our 3 



THE CONQUEST OF OR AN AD A. 283 

mountains would wash away his canvas city, and sweep ofi" 
those gay pavihons hke wreaths of snow before the blast." 

The prince Cidi Yahye took lieart at these words, and 
counted the days as they passed until the stormy season 
should commence. As he watched the Christian camp, he be- 
held it one morning in universal commotion: there was an 
imusual sound of hammers in every part, as if some ne^v 
engines of war were constructing. At length, to his astonish- 
ment, the walls and roofs of houses began to appear above the 
bulwarks. In a httle while, there were above a thousand edi- 
fices of wood and plaster erected, covered with tiles taken 
from the demoUshed towers of the orchards, and bearing the 
pennons of various commanders and cavaliers; while the 
common soldiery constructed huts, of clay and branches of 
trees, thatched with straw. Thus, to the dismay of the ^Moors, 
within four days the light tents and gay pavilions which had 
whitened their hills and plains, passed away like summer 
clouds ; and the unsubstantial camp assumed the solid appear- 
ance of a city laid out into streets and squares. In the centre 
rose a large edifice which overlooked the whole ; and the royal 
standard of Ai-ragon and Castile, proudly floating above it, 
showed it to be the palace of the king.* 

Ferdinand had taken the sudden resolution thus to turn his 
camp into a city, partly to provide against the approaching 
season, and partly to convince the Moors of his fixed deter- 
mination to continue the siege. In their haste to erect their 
dwellings, however, the Spanish cavaliers had not properly 
considered the nature of the climate. For the greater part of 
the year, there scarcely falls a drop of rain on the thirsty soil 
of Andalusia. The ramblas, or dry channels of the torrents, 
remain deep and arid gashes and clefts in the sides of the 
mountains ; the perennial streams shrink up to mere threads of 
of water, wliich, tinkling down the bottoms of the deep bar- 
rancas or ravines, scarce feed and keep alive the rivers of the 
valleys. The rivers, ahnost lost in their wide and naked beds, 
seem like thirsty rills, winding in serpentine mazes through 
deserts of sand and stones ; and so shallow and tranquil in 
their course, as to be forded in safety in almost every part. 
One autumnal tempest of rain, however, changes the whole 
face of nature :— the clouds break in deluges among the vast 
congregation of mountains; the ramblas are suddenly filled 

* Cura de los Palacios, Pulgar, etc. 



284 THE CONQUEST OF QRANABA. 

with raging floods ; the tinMing rivulets swell to thundering 
torrents, that come roaring down from the mountains, tum- 
bling great masses of rocks in their career. The late mean- 
dering river spreads over its once naked bed, lashes its surges 
against the banks, and rushes hke a wide and foaming inunda- 
tion through the valley. 

Scarcely had the Christians finished their slightly built 
edifices, when an autumnal tempest of the kind came scouring 
from the mountains. The camp was immediately overflowed. 
Many of the houses, undermined by the floods or beaten by the 
rain, crumbled away and fell to the earth, burying man and 
beast beneath their ruins. Several valuable lives were lost, 
and great numbers of horses and other animals perished. To 
add to the distress and confusion of the camp, the daily supply 
of provisions suddenly ceased ; for the rain had broken up the 
roads, and rendered the rivers unpassable. A panic seized 
upon the army, for the cessation of a single day's supply pro- 
duced a scarcity of bread and provender. Fortunately, the 
rain was but transient: the torrents rushed by, and ceased; 
the rivers shrunk back again to their narrow channels, and 
the convoys that had been detained upon their banks arrived 
safely in the camp. 

No sooner did queen Isabella hear of this interruption of her 
supplies, than, with her usual vigilance and activity, she pro- 
vided against its recurrence. She dispatched six thousand 
foot-soldiers, under the command of experienced offiGers, to re- 
pair the roads, and to make causeways and bridges, for the 
distance of seven Spanish leagues. The troops, also, who had 
been stationed in the mountains by the king to guard the de- 
files, made two paths, — one for the convoys going to the camp, 
and the other for those returning, that they might not meet 
and impede each other. The edifices which had been de- 
molished by the late fioods were rebuilt in a firmer manner, 
and precautions were taken to protect the camp from f utm^e 
mundations. 



i 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. ^^85 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

ENCOUNTERS BETWEEN THE CHRISTIANS AND MOORS, BEFORE 
BAZA; AND THE DEVOTION OF THE INHABITANTS TO THE DE- 
FENCE OF THEIR CITY. 

When King Ferdinand beheld the ravage and confusion 
produced by a single autumnal storm, and bethought him of 
all the maladies to which a besieging camp is exposed in in- 
clement seasons, he began to feel his compassion kindling for 
the suffering people of Baza, and an inclination to grant them 
more favorable terms. He sent, therefore, several messages to 
the alcayde Mohammed ben Hassan, offering liberty of person 
and security of property for the inhabitants, and large rewards 
for himself, if he would surrender the city. 

The veteran Mohammed was not to be dazzled by the splen- 
did offers of the monarch; he had received exaggerated ac- 
counts of the damage done to the Christian camp by the late 
storm, and of the sufferings and discontents of the army in 
consequence of the transient interruption of supplies ; he con- 
sidered the overtures of Ferdinand as proofs of the desperate 
state of his affairs. "A little more patience, a little more 
patience," said the shrewd old warrior, *' and we shall see this 
cloud of Christian locusts driven away before the winter 
storms. When they once turn their backs, it will be our turn 
to strike ; and with the help of Allah, the blow shall be de- 
cisive." He sent a firm though courteous refusal to the Casti- 
lian monarch, and in the mean time animated his companions 
to sally forth with more spirit than ever, to attack the Spanish 
outposts and those laboring in the trenches. The consequence 
was. a daily occurrence of the most daring and bloody skirm- 
ishes, that cost the hves of many of the bravest and most ad- 
venturous cavaliers of either army. 

In one of these sallies, nearly three hundred horse and two 
thousand foot mounted the heights behind the city, to capture 
the Christians who were employed upon the works. They 
came by surprise upon a body of guards, esquires of the count 
de Urena, killed some, put the rest to flight, and pursued 
them down the mountain, until they came in sight of a small 



^86 THE CONQUEST OF GEANADA. 

force under the count de Tendilla and Gonsalvo of Cordova. 
The Moors came rushing down with such fury, that many of 
the men of the count de Tendilla betook themselves to flight. 
The brave count considered it less dangerous to fight than to 
fly. Bracing his buckler, therefore, and grasping his trusty 
weapon, he stood his ground with his accustomed prowess. 
Gonsalvo of Cordova ranged himself by his side, and, marshal- 
ling the troops which remained with them, they made a valiant 
front to the Moors. 

The infidels pressed them hard, and were gaining the ad- 
vantage, when Alonzo de Aguilar, hearing of the danger of his 
brother Gonsalvo, flew to his assistance, accompanied by the 
count of Urena and a body of their troops. A hot fight ensued, 
from cliff to cliff and glen to glen. The Moors were fewer in 
number, but they excelled in the dexterity and lightness re- 
quisite for their scrambhng skirmishes. They were at length 
driven from their vantage-ground, and pursued by Alonzo de 
Aguilar and his brother Gonsalvo to the very suburbs of the 
city, leaving many of the bravest of their men upon the field. 

Such was one of innumerable rough encounters which were 
daily taking place, in which many brave cavaliers were slain, 
without any apparent benefit to either party. The Moors not- 
withstanding repeated defeats and losses, continued to sally 
forth daily, with astonishing spirit and vigor, and the obsti 
nacy of their defence seemed to increase with their sufferings. 

The prince Cidi Yahye was ever foremost in these sallies, 
but he grew daily more despairing of success. All the money 
in the military chest was expended, and there was no longer 
wherewithal to pay the hired troops. Still the veteran Mo- 
hammed ben Hassan undertook to provide for this emergency. 
Summoning the principal inhabitants, he represented the 
necessity of some exertion and sacrifice on their part, to 
maintain the defence of the city. "The enemy," said he, 
"dreads the approach of winter, and our perseverance drives 
Mm to despair. A Mttle longer, and he will leave you in 
quiet enjoyment of your homes and families. But our troops 
must be paid, to keep them in good heart. Our money is 
exhausted, and all our supplies are cut off. It is impossible 
to continue our defence, without your aid." 

Upon this the citizens consulted together, and they collected 
all their vessels of gold and silver, and brought them to Mo- 
hammed ben Hassan: "Take these," said they, "and coin 
them, or sell them, or pledge them, for money wherewith to 



Tiih: coyquiisT of ghanada. 287 

pny the troops." The women of Baza also were seized with 
generous emulation: "Shall we deck ourselves with gorgeous 
apparel," said they, "when our country is desolate, and its 
deienders in want of bread?" So they took their collai-s, and 
bracelets and anklets, and other ornaments of gold, and all 
their jewels, and put them in the hands of the veteran alcayde : 
"Take these spoils of our vanity," said they, "and let them 
contribute to the defence of our homes and families. If Baza 
be delivered, we need no jewels to grace our rejoicing; and if 
Baza fall, of what avail are ornaments to the captive?" 

By these contributions was Mohammed enabled to pay the 
soldiery, and to carry on the defence of the city with una- 
bated spirit. 

Tidings were speedily conveyed to king Ferdinand, of this 
generous devotion on the part of the people of Baza, and the 
hopes which the Moorish commanders gave them that the 
Christian army would soon abandon the siege in dispair. 
"They shall have a convincing proof of the fallacy of such 
hopes," said the politic monarch: so he wrote forth to queen 
Isabella, praying her to come to the camp in state, with all her 
train and retinue, and publicly to take up her residence there 
for the winter. By this means, the Moors would be convinced 
of the settled determination of the sovereigns to persist in the 
siege until the city should surrender, and he trusted they 
would be brought to speedy capitulation. 



CHAPTER XXXV. 



HOW QUEEN ISABELLA ARRIVED AT THE CAMP, AND THE CONSE- 
QUENCES OF HER ARRIVAL. 

Mohammed ben Hassan still encouraged his companions 
with hopes that the royal amiy would soon relinquish the 
sie.a:e; when they heard, one day, shouts of joy from the 
Christian camp, and thundering salvos of artillery. Word was 
brought, at the same time, from the sentinels on the watch- 
towers, that a Christion army was approaching: down the val- 
ley. ?.Ioliammed and his fellow-commanders ascended one of 
the hic:hest towers of the walls, and behold in trutli a num- 
erous force, in shining array, descending the hills, and heard 



288 ^'^^^' CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

the distant clangor of the trumpet and the faint swell of 
triumphant music. 

As the host drew nearer, they descried a stately dame mag- 
nificently attired, whom they soon discovered to be the queen. 
She was riding on a mule, the sumptuous trappings of which 
were resplendent with gold, and reached to tlie ground. On 
her right hand rode her daughter, the princess Isabella, equally 
splendid in her array; and on her left, the venerable grand 
cardinal of Spain. A noble train of ladies and cavaliers fol- 
lowed her, together with pages and esquires, and a numerous 
guard of hidalgos of high rank, arrayed in superb armor. 
When the veteran Mohanmied ben Hassan beheld that this 
was the queen Isabella, arriving in state to take up her resi- 
dence in the camp, his heart failed him; he shook his head 
mournfuUy, and, turning to his captains, " Cavahers," said he, 
"' the fate of Baza is decided !" 

The Moorish commanders remained gazing with a mingled 
feeling of grief and admiration at this magnificent pageant, 
which foreboded the fall of then- city. Some of the troops 
would have salhed forth on one of their desperate skirmishes, 
to attack the royal guard ; but the prince Cidi Yahye forbade 
them ; nor would he allow any artillery to be discharged, or 
any molestation or insult to be offered ; for the character of 
Isabella was venerated even by the Moors; and most of the 
commanders possessed that high and chivalrous courtesy 
which belongs to heroic spirits — for they were among the no- 
blest and bravest cavaliere of the Moorish nation. 

The inhabitants of Baza, when they learned that the Chris- 
tian queen was approaching the camp, eagerly sought every 
eminence that could command a view of the plain ; and every 
battlement, and tower, and mosque, was covered with tur- 
baned heads gazing at the glorious spectacle. They beheld 
kmg Ferdinand issue forth in royal state, attended by the 
marques of Cadiz, the Master of Santiago, the duke of Alva the 
admiral of Castile, and many other nobles of renown ; while the 
whole chivalry of the camp, sumptuously arrayed, followed in 
his train, and the populace rent the air with acclamations at 
the sight of the patriot queen. 

When the sovereigns had met and embraced each other, the 
two hosts mingled together and entered the camp in martial 
pomp; and the eyes of the infidel beholders were dazzled by 
the flash of armor, the splendor of golden caparisons, the gO]> 
geous display of silks and brocades and velvets, of tossing' 



THE COAQUE'^T OF GRANADA. 280 

plumes and fluttering banners. There was at the same time a 
triumphant sound of drums and trumpets, clarion and sack- 
buts, njingled with the sweet melody of the dulcimer, wliicli 
came swelling m bursts of harmony that seemed to rise up to 
the heavens.* 

On the arrival of the queen, (says the historian Hernando 
del Pulgar, who was i)resent at the time,) it was marvellous to 
behold hovv all at once the rigor and turbulence of war were 
softened, and the storm of passion sunk into calm. The sword 
was sheathed; the cross-bow no longer lanched its deadly 
shafts ; and the artillery, which had hitherto kept up an inces- 
sant uproar, now ceased its thundering. On both sides, there 
was still a vigilant guard kept up ; the sentinels bristled the 
walls of Baza with their lances, and the guards patrolled the 
Christian camp ; but there was no sallying forth to skirmish, 
nor any wanton violence or carnage. 

Prince Cidi Yahye saw, by the arrival of the queen, that the 
Christians were determined to continue the siege, and he knew 
that the city would have to capitulate. He had been prodigal 
of the lives of his soldiers, as long as he thought a military 
good was to be gained by the sacrifice; but he was sparing of 
their blood in a hopeless cause, and weary of exasperating the 
enemy by an obstinate yet hopeless defence. 

At the request of prince Cidi Yahye, a parley was granted, 
and the Master commander of Leon, Don Gutiere de Cardenas, 
was appointed to confer with the veteran alcayde Mohammed. 
They met at an appointed place, within view of both camp and 
city, honorably attended by cavaliers of either army. Their 
meeting was highly courteous, for they had learnt, from rough 
encounters in the field, to admire each other's prowess. The 
commander of Leon, in an earnest speech, pointed out the 
hopelessness of any further defence, and warned Mohammed 
of the ills which Malaga had incurred by its obstinacy. "I 
promise, in the name of my sovereigns," said he, "that if you 
surrender immediately, the inhabitants shall be treated as sub- 
jects, and protected in property, liberty, and religion. If you 
refuse, you, who are now renowned as an able and judicious 
commander, vn\\ be chargeable with the confiscations, cap- 
tivities, and deaths, which may be suffered by the people of 
Baza." 

The commander ceased, and Mohammed returned to the city 

* Cura de los Palacios. 



290 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

to consult with his companions. It was evident that all fur- 
ther resistance was hopeless; but the Moorish commanders 
felt that a cloud might rest upon upon their names, should 
they, of their own discretion, surrender so important a place 
without its having sustained an assault. Prince Cidi Yahye 
requested permission, therefore, to send an envoy to Guadix, 
with a letter to the old monarch El Zagal, treating of the sur- 
render ; the request was granted, a safe-conduct assured to the 
envoy, and the veteran alcayde Mohammed ben Hassan de- 
parted upon this momentous mission. 



CHAPTEE XXXVI. 

SURRENDER OP BAZA. 

The old warrior king was seated in an inner chamber of the 
castle of Guadix, much cast doAvn in spirit, and ruminating on 
his gloomy fortunes, when an envoy from Baza was an- 
nounced, and the veteran alcayde Mohammed stood before 
him. El Zagal saw disastrous tidings written in his counten- 
ance: *' How fares it with Baza?" said he, summoning up his 
spirits to the question. "Let this inform thee," replied Mo- 
hammed ; and he deUvered into his hands the letter from the 
prince Cidi Yahye. 

This letter spoke of the desperate situation of Baza ; the im- 
possibility of holdinr; out longer, without assistance from El 
Zagal; and the favorable terms held out by the Castilian 
sovereigns. Had it been written by any other person. El Za- 
gal might have received it with distrust and indignation ; but 
he confided in Cidi Yahye as in a second self, and the words of 
his letter sunk deep in his heart. When he had finished read- 
ing it, he sighed deeply, and remained for some time lost in 
thought, with his head droopi- ^ upon his bosom. Eecovering 
himself, at length, he called together Inc alfaquis and the old 
men of Guadix, and, communicating the tidings from Baza, 
solicited their advice. It was a sign of sore trouble of mini 
and dejection of heart, when El Zagal sought the advice of 
others ; but his fierce courage was tamed, for he saw the end 
of his power approaching. The alfaquis and the old men did 
im.t increase the distraction of 14§ mind by a variety of coun- 



THE CONQUEST Ot OBAN ADA. 201 

sel, none of which appeared of any avail ; for unless Baza wore 
succored, it was impossible that it should hold out ; and every 
attempt to succor it had proved ineffectual. 

El Zagal dismissed liis council in despair, and summoned the 
veteran Mohammed before him. "Allah Acbar!" exclaimed 
he, "God is gi^eat; there is but one God, and Mahomet is his 
prophet. Return to my cousin, Cidi Yahye ; tell him it is out 
of my power to aid him; he must do as seems to him for the 
best. The peopie of Baza have performed deeds worthy of im- 
mortal fame ; I cannot ask them to encounter further ilia and 
perils, in maintaining a hopeless defence." 

The reply of El Zagal determined the fate of the city. Cidi 
Yahye and his fellow commanders immediately capitulated, 
and were granted the most favorable terms. The cavahers 
and soldiers who had come from other parts to the defence 
of the place, were permitted to depart freely with their arms, 
horses, and effects. The inhabitants had their choice, either 
to depart with their property, or to dwell in the suburbs, in 
the enjoyment of their religion and laws, taking an oath of 
fealty to the sovereigns, and paying the same tribute they had 
paid to the Moorish kings. The city and citadel were to be 
delivered up in six days, within which period the inhabitants 
were to pemove all their effects ; and in the mean time, they 
were to place, as hostages, fifteen Moorish youths, sons of the 
principal inhabitants, in the hands of the commander of Leon. 
When Cidi Yahye and the alcayde Mohammed came to de- 
liver up the hostages, among whom were the sons of the latter, 
they paid homage to the king and queen, who received them 
with the utmost courtesy and kindness, and ordered magnifi- 
cent presents to be given to them, and likewise to the other 
Moorish cavaliers, consisting of money, robes, horses, and other 
things of gi-eat value. 

The prince Cidi Yahye was so captivated by the grace, the 
dignity, and generosity of Isabella, and tlie princely courtesy 
of Ferdinand, that he vowed never again to draw his sword 
against such magnanimous sovereigns. The queen, charmed 
with his gallant bearing and his animated professions of devo- 
tion, assured him, that, liaving him on her side, she already 
considered the war terminated which had desolated the king- 
dom of Granada. 

Mighty and irresistible are words of praise from the lips of 
sovereigns. Cidi Yahye was entirely subdued by this fair 
speech from the illustrious Isabella. His heart burned vdih. a 



292 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

sudden flame of loyalty towards the sovereigns. He begged 
to be enrolled amongst the most devoted of their subjects; 
and, in the fervor of his sudden zeal, engaged not merely to 
dedicate his sword to their service, but to exert all his influ= 
ence, which was great, in persuading his cousin, Muley Ab- 
dalla el Zagal, to surrender the cities of Guadix and Almeria, 
and to give up all further hostihties. Nay, so powerful was' 
the effect produced upon his mind by his conversation with 
the sovereigns, that it extended even to his religion; for he 
became immediately enhghtened as to the heathenish abomi- 
nations of tiie vile sect of Mahomet, and struck with the truths 
of Christianity, as illustrated by such powerful monarchs. 
He consented, therefore, to be baptized, and to be gathered 
into the fold of the church. The pious Agapida indulges in a 
triumphant strain of exultation, on the sudden and surprising 
conversion of this princely infidel : he considers it one of the 
greatest acliievements of the Cathohc sovereigns, and indeed 
one of the marvellous occurrences of this holy war: "But it is 
given to saints and pious monarchs, " says he, ' ' to work mira- 
cles in the cause of the faith ; and such did the most Cathohc 
Ferdinand, in the conversion of the prince Cidi Yahye." 

Some of the Arabian writers have sought to lessen the won- 
der of this miracle, by alluding to great revenues granted to 
the prince and his heirs by the Castihan monarchs, togethei 
with a territory in Marchena, with townS; lands, and vassals ; 
but in this (says Agapida) we only see a wise precaution of 
king Ferdinand, to clinch and secure the conversion of his 
proselyte. The policy of the Catholic monarch was at all 
times equal to his piety. Instead also of vaunting of this 
great conversion, and making a public parade of the entry of 
the prince into the church, king Ferdinand ordered that the 
baptism should be performed in private, and kept a profound 
secret. He feared that Cidi Yahye might otherwise be de- 
nounced as an apostate, and abhorred and abandoned by the 
Moors, and thus his influence destroyed in bringing the war to 
a speedy termination.* 

The veteran Mohammed ben Hassan was likewise won by 
the magnanimity and munificence of the Castilian sovereigns, 
and entreated to be received into their service; and his 
example was followed by many other Moorish cavaliers, whose 
services were generously accepted and magnificently rewarded. 

* Conde, torn. 3, cap. 40. 



TlIK CVyQUESl' OF GJIAXADA. 293 

Thus, after a siege of six months and twenty days, the city 
of Baza surrendered on tlie 4th of December, 1489 ; the festival 
of the glorious Santa Barbara, who is said, in the Catholic 
calendar, to preside over thunder and lightning, fire and gun- 
powder, and all kinds of combustions explosions. The king 
and queen made their solemn and triumphant entry on the 
following day ; and the public joy was heightened by the sight 
of upwards of five hundred Christian captives, men, women, 
and cliildren, delivered fr'^m the Moorish dungeons. 

The loss of the Christians in this siege amounted t(^ twenty 
thousand men, of whom seventeen thousand died of disease, 
and not a few of mere cold, — a kind of death (says the his- 
torian Mariana) peculiarly uncomfortable ; but (adds the ven- 
ej'ablc Jesuit) as these latter were chiefly people of ignoble 
rank, baggage-caa-riers and such like, the loss was not of gi-eat 
importance. 

The surrender of Baza was followed by that of Almunecar, 
Tavernas, and most of the fortresses of the Alpuxarra moun- 
tains; the inhabitants hoped, by prompt and voluntary sub- 
mission, to secure equally favorable terms with those granted 
to the captured city, and the alcaydes to receive similar re- 
wards to those lavished on its commanders ; nor were either of 
them disappointed. The inhabitants were permitted to remain 
as Mudexares, in the quiet enjoyment of their property and 
religion ; and as to the alcaydes, when they came to the camp 
to render up their charges, they w^ere received by Ferdinand 
with distinguished favor, and rew^arded with presents of 
money in proportion to the importance of the places they had 
commanded. Care was taken by the politic monarch, how- 
ever, not to wound their pride nor shock their delicacy; so 
these smns were paid under color of arrears due to them for 
their services to the former government. Ferdinand had con- 
quered by dint of sword, in the earlier part of the war ; but he 
found gold as potent as steel, in this campaign of Baza, 

With several of these mercenary chieftains came one named 
Ali Aben Fahar, a seasoned warrior, who had held many 
important commands. He was a Moor of a lofty, stern, and 
melancholy aspect, and stood silent and apart, while his com- 
panions surrendered their several fortresses and retired laden 
with treasure. When it came to liis turn to speak, he ad- 
dressed the sovereigns with the frankness of a soldier, but with 
a tone of dejection and despair, 

"I am a Moor," said he, "and of Moorish Imea^e, and am 



294 THE CONQUEST OF GRAXADA. 

alcayde of the fair towns and castles of Farchena and Paternix. 
These were intrusted to me to defend ; but those who should 
have stood by me have lost all strength and courage, and seek 
only for security. These fortresses, therefore, most potent 
sovereigns, are yours, whenever you will send to take possess- 
ion of them." 

Large sums of gold were immediately ordered by Ferdinand 
to be delivered to the alcayde, as a recompense for so impor- 
tant a surrender. The Moor, however, put back the gift with 
a firm and haughty demeanor: "I came not," said he, "to sell 
what is not mine, but to yield what fortune has made yours ; 
and your majesties may rest assured that, had I been properly 
seconded, death would have been the price at which I would 
have sold my fortresses, and not the gold you offer me." 

The Castihan monarchs were struck with the lofty and loyal 
spirit of the Moor, and desired to engage a man of such fidelity 
in their service ; but the proud Moslem could not be induced to 
serve the enemies of his nation and his faith. 

"Is there nothing then," said Queen Isabella, "that we can 
do to gratify thee, and to prove to thee our regard?" "Yes," 
replied the Moor; "I have lelt behind me, in the towns and 
vaUeys which I have surrendered, many of my unhappy 
countrymen, with their wives and children, who cannot tear 
themselves from their native abodes. Give me your royal 
word that they shall be protected in the peaceable enjoyment 
of their religion and their homes." "We promise it," said 
Isabella; "they shall dwell in peace and security. But for 
thyself— what dost thou ask for thyself?" " Nothing," rephed 
Ah, "but permission to pass unmolested, with my horses and 
effects into Africa." 

The Castilian monarchs would fain have forced upon him 
gold and silver, and superb horses richly caparisoned, not as 
rewards, but as marks of personal esteem; but Ali Aben Fahar 
declined aU presents and distinctions, as if he thought it crimi- 
nal to flourish individually durmg a time of pubhc distress; 
and disdained all prosperity that seemed to grow out of the 
ruins of his country. 

Having received a royal passport, he gathered together his 
horses and servants, his armor and weapons, and aU his war- 
like effects ; bade adieu to his weeping countrymen with a brow 
stamped with anguish, but without shedding a tear; and, 
mounting his Barbary steed, turned his back upon the delight' 
fill vaUeys of his conquered country, departing on his lonely/ 



THE CONQUEST OF (JRANAVA. ^ijf, 

way, to seek a soldier's fortune amidst the burning sands of 
Africa.* 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

SUBMISSION OF EL ZAGAL TO THE CASTILIAN SOVEREIGNS. 

Evil tidings never fail by the way, through lack of messen- 
gei-s; they are wafted on the wings of the wind, and it is as if 
the very birds of the air would bear them to the ear of the 
unfortunate. The old king El Zagal buried himself in the 
recesses of his castle, to hide himself from the light of day, 
which no longer shone prosperously upon him ; but every hour 
brought missives, thundering at the gate, with the tale of some 
new disaster. Fortress after fortress had laid its keys at the 
feet of the Christian sovereigns: strip by strip, of warrior 
mountain and green fruitfid valley, was torn from his do- 
mains, and added to the territories of the conquerors. Scarce- 
ly a remnant remained to him, except a tract of the Alpux- 
arras, and the noble cities of Guadix and Almeria. No one 
any longer stood in awe of the fierce old monarch; the terror 
of his frown had declined with his power. He had arrived at 
that stage of adversity, when a man's friends feel emboldened 
to tell him hard truths, and to give him unpalatable advice ; 
and when his spirit is bowed down to listen quietly, if not 
meekly. 

El Zagal was seated on his divan, his whole spirit absorbed 
in rumination on the transitory nature of human glory, when 
his kinsman and brother-in-law, the prince Cidi Yahye, was 
announced. That illustrious convert to the true faith and the 
interests of the conquerors of his country, had hastened to 
Guadix with all the fervor of a now proselyte, eager to prove 
his zeal in the service of Heaven and the Castilian sovereigns, 
by persuading the old monarch to abjure his faith and surren- 
der his possessions. 

Cidi Yahye still bore the guise of a Moslem, for liis conver- 
sion was as yet a secret. The stern heart of El Zagal softened 
&,t beholding the face of a kinsman in this hour of adversity. 
pe folded his cousin to his bosom, and gave thanks to Allah 

* Pulgar. Garibay, lib. 40, cap. 40. Cura de los Palacios. 



296 TIIE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

that amidst all his troubles he had stUl a Mend and counsellor 
on whom he might rely. 

Cidi Yahye soon entered upon the real purpose of his mis- 
sion. He represented to El Zagal the desperate state of affairs, 
and the irretriveable dechne of Moorish power in the kingdom 
of Granada. "Fate," said he, "is against our arms; our ruin 
is written in the heavens. Remember the prediction of the 
astrologers, at the birth of your nephew Boabdil. We had 
hoped that their prediction was accomphshed by his capture 
at Lucena; but it is now evident that the stars portended 
not a temporary and passing reverse of the kingdom, but a 
final overthrow. The constant succession of disasters which 
have attended our efforts, show that the sceptre of Granada is 
doomed to pass into the hands of the Christian monarchs. 
Such," concluded the prince emphatically, and with a pro- 
found and pious reverence, "such is the almighty will of 
God!" 

El Zagal hstened to these words in mute attention, without 
so much as moving a muscle of his face, or winking an eyehd. 
When the prince had concluded, he remained for a long time 
silent and pensive ; at length, heaving a profound sigh from the 
very bottom of his heart, " Alahuma subahana hu !" exclaimed 
he, ' ' the will of God be done ! Yes, my cousin, it is but too 
evident that such is the will of Allah ; and what he wills, he 
fails not to accomplish. Had he not decreed the fall of Gra- 
nada, this arm and this scimitar would have maintained it."* 

"What then remains," said Cidi Yahpe, "but to draw the 
most advantage from the wreck of empire that is left you? To 
persist in a war is to bring complete desolation upon the land, 
and ruin and death upon its faithful inhabitants. Are you dis- 
posed to yield up your remaining towns to your nephew El 
Cliico, that they may augment his power, and derive protec- 
tion from his alliance with the Christian sovereigns ?" 

The eye of El Zagal flashed fire at this suggestion. He 
grasped the hilt of his scimitar, and gnashed his teeth in fury. 
" Never," cried he, "will I make terms with that recreant and 
slave ! Sooner would I see the banners of the Christian mon- 
archs floating above my walls, than that they should add to ;■ 
the possessions of the vassal Boabdil !" 

Cidi Yahne immediately seized upon this idea, and urged EI 
Zagal to make a frank and entire surrender: "Trust," said he, 

* Conde, torn. 3. c. 40. 



THE CONQUEST OF GUAKADA. 21)7 

"to the magnanimity of the COvStilian sovereigns; they will 
doubtless grant you high and honorable terms. It is better to 
yield to them as friends, what they must infallibly and before 
long wrest from you as enemies ; for such, my cousin, is the 
almighty will of God I" 

"Alahuma subahana hul" repeated El Zagal, "the will of 
God be done !" So the old monarch bowed his haughty neck, 
and agreed to surrender his territories to the enemies of his 
faith, rather than suffer them to augment the Moslem power 
under the sway of his nephew. 

Cidi Yahye now returned to Baza, empowered by El Zagal to 
treat on his behalf with the Christian sovereigns. The prince 
felt a species of exultation, as he expatiated on the rich relics 
of empire which he was authorized to cede. There was a great 
part of that line of mountains which extends from the metro^ 
pohs to the Mediterranean sea, with their series of beautiful 
valleys, Hke precious emeralds set in a golden chain. Above 
all, there were Guadix and Almeria, two of thfc* most inestim- 
able jewels in the crown of Granada. 

In return for these possessions, and for the clf^m. El Zagal to 
the rest of the kingdom, the sovereigns received him into their 
friendship and alliance, and gave him in perpeti^al inheritance 
the territory of Andarax and the valley of Alhaurin in the 
Alpuxarras, with half of the silinas or salt-pits of Maleha. He 
was to enjoy the title of king of Andarax, with two thousand 
Mudexares, or conquered Moors, for subjects; f\rt(\ his reven- 
ues were to be made up to the sum of four millions of mareve- 
dies.* All these he was to hold, as a vassal ot the Castilian 
crown. 

These arrangements being made, Cidi Yahye returned with 
them to Muley Abdalla ; and it was concerted that the cere- 
mony of surrender and homage should take place at a city ot 
Almeria. 

On the 17th of December, long Ferdinand departed from 
Baza with a part of his army, and the queen soon followed 
with the remainder. Ferdinand passed in triumph by several 
of the newly-acquired toTvns, exulting in these trophies of hia 
policy rather than his valor. As he drew near to Almeria, the 
Moorish king came forth to meet him, accompanied by the 
prince Cidi Yahye, and a number of the principal inhabitants 
on hoi-seback. The fierce brow of El Zagal was clouded with 

* Cura de los Palacios. can. 94. 



208 ' '"^'^^^ CONQtiEST OF GRANADA. ^' 

a kiiid of forced humility, but there was an impatient curl of 
the Up, with now and then a sweUing of the bosom and an- 
indignant breathing from the distended nostril. It was evi- 
dent he considered himself conquered, not by the power of 
man, but by the hand of Heaven ; and, while he bowed to the 
decrees of fate, it galled his proud spirit to have to humble 
himself before its mortal agent. As he approached the Chris 
tian king, he ahghted from his horse, and advanced to kiss hi£ 
hand in taken of homage. Ferdinand, however respected the 
title which the Moor had held, and would not permit the cere- 
mony ; but, bending from his saddle, graciously embraced him, 
and requested him to remount his steed.* Several courteous 
speeches passed between them; and the fortress and city of 
Almeria, and all the remaining territories of El Zagal, were 
dehvered up m form. When all was accomplished, the old 
warrior Moor retired to the mountains with a handful of ad- 
herents, to seek his petty territory of Andarax, to bury his 
humiliation from the world, and to console himself with the 
shadowy title of king.f 



CHAPTER XXXVin. 

EVENTS OF GRANADA, SUBSEQUENT TO THE SUBMISSION OF EL 

ZAGAL. 

Who can tell when to rejoice, in this fluctuating world? 
Every wave of prosperity has its reacting surge, and we are 
often overwhelmed by the very billow on which we thought to 
be wafted into the haven of our hopes. When Yusef Aber 
Comixa, the vizier of BoabdU, surnamed El Cliico, entered 
the royal saloon of the Alhambra and announced the capitula- 
tion of El Zagal, the heart of the youthful monarch leaped foi 
joy. His great wish was accomplished; his uncle was defeateC 
and dethroned, and he reigned without a rival, sole monarch 
of Granada. At length, he was about to enjoy the fruits of 
his humiliation and vassalage. He beheld his throne fortified 
by the friendsliip and alliance of the CastHian monarchs ; there 
could be no question, therefore, of its stabilitj^. "Allah Ac- 
bar!" exclaimed he, "God is great! Rejoice with me, oh 

* Cura de los Palacios, cap. 93. t Pulsar. Garibav. &c.. &c. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 299 

Yusef; the stars have ceased their persecution. Henceforth 
let no man call me El Zogoybi." 

In the first moment of his exultation, Boabdil would have 
ordered public rejoicings; but the shrewd Yusef shook }\is 
head. " The tempest has ceased," said he, "from one point of 
the heavens, but it may begin to rage from another. A troub- 
led sea is beneath us, and we are surrounded by rocks and 
quicksands: let my lord the king defer rejoicing until all has 
settled into a calm." El Chico, however, could not remain 
tranquil in this day of exultation : he ordered his steed to be 
sumptuously caparisoned, and, issuing out of the gate of the 
Alhambra, descended, with a glittering retinue, along the 
avenue of trees and fountains, into the city, to receive the 
acclamations of the populace. As he entered the great square 
of the Vivarrambla, he beheld crowds of people in violent agi- 
tation; but, as he approached, what was his surprise to hear 
groans and murmurs and bursts of execration! The tidings 
had spread through Granada, that Muley Abdalla el Zagal had 
been driven to capitulate, and that all his territories had fallen 
into the hands of the Christians. No one had inquired into the 
particulars, but all Granada had been thrown into a ferment of 
grief and indignation. In the heat of the moment, old Muley 
was extolled to the skies as a patriot prince, who had fought to 
the last for the salvation of his country— as a mirror of mon- 
archs, scorning to compromise the dignity of his crown by any 
act of vassalage. Boabdil, on the contrary, had looked on ex- 
citingly at the hopeless yet heroic struggle of his uncle ; he had 
rejoiced in the defeat of the faithfid, and the triumph of unbe- 
lievers ; he had aided in the dismemberment and downfall of 
the empire. When they beheld him riding forth in gorgeous 
state, on what they considered a day of humiliation for all true 
Moslems, they could not contain their rage; and amidst the 
clamors that met his ears, Boabdil more than once heard his 
name coupled with the epithets of traitor and renegade. 

Shocked and discomfited, the youthful monarch returned in 
onfusion to the Alhambra. He shut himself up within its in- 
fiermost courts, and remained a kind of voluntary prisoner 
antil the first burst of popular feeling should subside. Ho 
■Tusted that it would soon pass away ; that the people would be 
GOO sensible of the sweets of peace to repine at the pri(,'e at 
hich it was obtained ; at any rate, he trusted to the strong- 

endship of the Christian sovereigns, to secure him even 
st the factions of his subiects. 



300 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 






The first missives from the pohtic Ferdinand showed Boabdi]' 
the value of his friendship. The Cathohc monarch reminded 
him of a treaty which he had made when captured in the city 
of Loxa. By this, he had engaged, that in case the Cathohc 
sovereigns should capture the cities of Guadix, Baza and Aime- 
ria, he would surrender Granada into their hands within a 
lunited time, and accept in exchange certain Moorish tov/ns, tc 
be held by him as their vassal. Ferninand now informed liim 
that Gaudix, Baza and Almeria had fallen ; he called upon him, 
therefore, to fulfil his engagement. 

If the unfortunate Boabdil had possessed the will, he had no< 
the power to comply with this demand. He was shut up in the 
Alhambra, while a tempest of popular fury raged without. 
Granada was thronged by refuges from the captured towns, 
many of them disbanded soldiers, and others broken-dowr 
citizens, rendered fierce and desperate by ruin. All railed a1 
Boabdil, as the real cause of their misfortunes. How was he tc 
ventui^e forth in such a storm? — above all, how was he to talt 
to such men of surrender? In his reply to Ferdinand, he 
represented the difficulties of his situa^tion, and that, so fai 
from having control over his subjects, his very life was in dan- 
ger from their turbulence. He entreated the king, therefore, 
to rest satisfied for the present with his recent conquests, 
promising him that should he be able to regain full empire ovei 
his capital and its inhabitants, it would but be to rule over 
them as vassal to the Castilian crown, 

Ferdinand was not to be satisfied with such a reply. TLie 
time was come to bring his game of policy to a close, and tc 
consummate his conquest by seating himself on the throne oil 
the Alhambra. Professing to consider Boabdil as a faithless 
ally, who had broken his plighted word, he discarded him 
from his friendship, and addressed a second letter, not to that 
monarch, but to the commanders and council of the city. He' 
demanded a complete surrender of the place, with all the armgj 
in the possession either of the citizens or of others who had re^ 
cently taken refuge within its walls. If the inhabitants should 
comply with this summons, he promised them the indulgent 
terms v^hich had been granted to Baza, Guadix and Almeria: 
if they should refuse he threatened them with the fate oi 
Malaga.* 

The message of the Cathohc monarch produced the greatest 

^f 



* Cura de los Palacios, cap. 96. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 3q1 

conunotion in the city. The inhabitants of the Alcaiceria that 
busy hive of traffic, and all others who had tasted the sweets of 
gainful commerce during the late cessation of hostilities were 
for securing their golden advantages by timely submission- 
others, who had wives and children, looked on them with ten- 
derness and solicitude, and dreaded, by resistance, to bring 
upon them the horrors of slavery. ^ 

But, on the other hand, Granada was crowded with men from 
aU parts, ruined by the war, exasperated by their sufferini?s 
and eager only for revenge; with others, who had been reared 
amidst hostihties, who had lived by the sword, and whom a 
return or peace would leave without home or hope Beside 
these there were others no less fiery and warhke in disposi- 
tion, but animated by a loftier spirit. These were vahant and 
haughty cavaliers of the old chivalrous lineages, who had in- 
herited a deadly hatred to the Christians from a long hne of 
warrior ancestors, and to whom the idea was worse than death 
that Granada, illustrious Granada! for ages the scat of Moor- 
ish grandeur and dehght, should become the abode of unbe- 
lievers. 

^ Among these cavaKers, the most eminent was Musa ben Abil 
aazan. He was of royal lineage, of a proud and generous nat- 
ire and a form combining manly strength and beauty. None 
iould excel him m the management of the horse, and dextrous 
iseof aU kinds of weapons: his gracefulness and skill in the 
ourney were the theme of praise among the Moorish dames 
md his prowess in the field had made him the terror of the 
^nemy. He had long repined at the timid policy of Boabdil 
^nd had endeavored to counteract its enervating effects and to 
:eep alive the martial spirit of Granada. For this reason he 
ad promoted jousts and tiltings with the reed, and all those 
ther pubhc games which bear the semblance of war. He en- 
eavored also to inculcate into his companions in arms those 
3gh chivalrous sentiments which lead to vahant and mag- 
animous deeds, but which are apt to decline with the inde- 
endence of a nation. The generous efforts of Muza had been 
I a great measure successful: he was the idol of the youthful 
ivahers; they regarded him as a mirror of chivalrv and 
ideavored to imitate bis lofty and heroic virtues 
When Muza heard the demand of Ferdinand that they should 
pliver up their arms, his eye flashed fire: "Does the Chris- 
^n king think that we are old men," said he "and that staffs 
lU suffice us?-or that we are women and can be contented 



302 THE CONQUEST OF GBANADA. 

with distaffs? Let him know that a Moor is born to the speai 
and scimitar; to career the steed, bend the bow, and lanch thc| 
javehn: deprive liim of these, and you deprive him of his 
nature. If the Christian king desires our arms, let him comf 
and win them; but let him win them dearly. For my iDart, 
sweeter were a grave beneath the walls of Granada, on thf 
spot I had died to defend, than the richest couch within hei 
palaces, earned by submission to the unbehever. " 

The words of Muza were received with enthusiastic shoutS' 
by the warlike part of the popidace. Granada once mor(. 
awoke, as a warrior shaking off a disgraceful lethargy. Th(| 
commanders and council partook of the public excitement 
and dispatched a reply to the Christian sovereigns, declaring! 
that they would suffer death rather than surrender then 
city. 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

HOW KING FERDINAND TURNED HIS HOSTILITIES AGAINST THE 
CITY OF GRANADA. 

When king Ferdinand received the defiance of the Moors 
he made preparations for bitter hostilities. The winter seasor 
did not admit of an immediate campaign; he contented him 
self, therefore, with throwing strong garrisons into aU his 
towns and fortresses in the neighborhood of Granada, anc; i 
gave the command of all the frontier of Jaen to Inigo Lope: 
de Mendoza, count of TendiUa, who had shown such consum 
mate vigilance and address in maintaining the dangeroui 
post of Alhama. This renowned veteran established his headi . 
quarters in the mountain city of Alcala la Real, within eigh \ 
leagues of the city of Granada, and commanding the mos 
unportant passes of that rugged frontier. 

In the mean time, the city of Granada resounded with th( 
stir of war. The chivalry of the nation had again contro 
of its councils ; and the populace, having once more resume< 
their weapons, were anxious to wipe out the disgTace of the! j 
late passive submission, by signal a.nd daring exploits. ' 

Muza ben Abil Gazan was the soul of action. He com 
manded the cavalry, which he had disciphned with uncom 



THE CONQUEST OF OR AN AD A. 3O3 

mon skill: he was surrounded by tlie noblest youth of Gra- 
nada, who had caught his own generous and martial fire, 
and panted for the field ; while the common soldiers, devoted 
to liis person, were ready to follow him in the most desper- 
ate enterprises. He did not allow their courage to cool for 
want of action. The gates of Granada once more poured 
io-th legions of hght scouring cavalry, which skirred the coun- 
try up to the very gates of the Christian fortresses, sweeping 
off flocks and herds. The name of Muza became formidable 
throughout the frontier; he had many encounters with the 
enemy in the rough passes of the mountains, in which the su- 
perior lightness and dexterity of his cavalry gave him the 
advantage. The sight of his glistening legion, returning across 
the vega with long cavalgadas of booty, was hailed by the 
Moors as a revival of their ancient triumphs ; but when they 
beheld Christian banners borne into their gates as trophies, 
the exultation of the light-minded populace was beyond all 
bounds. 

The winter passed away; the spring advanced, yet Ferdi- 
nand delayed to take the field. He knew the city of Gra- 
nada to be too strong and populous to be taken by assault, 
and too full of provisions to be speedily reduced by siege. 
"We must have patience and perseverance," said the politic 
monarch ; " by ravaging the coimtry this year, we shall pro- 
duce a scarcity the next, and then the city may be invested 
with effect. 

An interval of peace, aided by the quick vegetation of a 
prohfic soil and happy climate, had restored the vega to all 
its luxuriance and beauty ; the green pastures on the bordei-s 
of the Xenel were covered with flocks and herds ; the bloom- 
ing orchards gave promise of abundant fruit, and the open 
plain was waving with ripening corn. The time was at hand 
to put in the sickle and reap the golden harvest, when sud- 
denly a torrent of war came sweeping down from the moun- 
tains; and Ferdinand, with an army of five thousand horse 
and twenty thousand foot, appeared before the walls of Gra- 
nada. He had left the queen and princess at the fortress of 
Moclin, and came attended by the duke of Medina Sidonia, 
the marques of Cadiz, the marques de Villena, the counts of 
Ureila and Cabra, Don Alonzo de Aguilar, and other renowned 
cavaliers. On this occasion, king Ferdinand for the first time 
led his son, prince Juan, into the field, and bestowed upon 
him the dignity of knighthood. As if to stimulate liim to 



304 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

grand achievements, the ceremony took place on the banks 
of the grand canal, almost beneath the embattled walls of 
that warlike city, the object of such daring enterprises, and 
in the midst of that famous vega v/hich had been the field of 
so many chivalrous exploits. Above tliem shone resplendent 
the red towers of the Alhambra, rising frjm amidst delicious 
groves, with the standard of Mahomet waving defiance to the 
Christian arms. 

The duke of Medme Sidv^nk., ^^A the valiant Roderigo Ponce 
de Leon, marque-^ of Cadiz, were sponsors; and all the clhv- 
alry of the ca^np was assembled on the occasion. The prince, 
after he \vas knighted, bestowed the same honor on several 
youinful cavaliers of high rank, just entering, like himself 
on the career of arms. ' 

^ Ferdinand did not loiter, in carrymg his desolating plans 
mto execution. He detached parties in every direction, to 
lay waste the country; villages were sacked, burnt, and 'de- 
stroyed, and the lovely vega once more laid waste with fire 
and sword. The ravage was carried so close to Granada, that 
the city was wrapped in the smoke of its gardens and hamlets 
The dismal cloud rolled up the hiU and hung about the towers 
of the Alhambra, where the unfortunate Boabdil still remained 
shut up from the indignation of his subjects. The hapless 
monarch smote his breast, as he looked down from his moun- 
tam palace on the desolation effected by his late ally. He 
dar3d not even show himself in arms among the populace, for 
they cursed hini as the cause of the miseries once more brought 
to their doors. 

The Moors, however, did not suffer the Christians to carry on 
then- ravages as unmolested as in former years. Muza incited 
them to incessant salHes. He divided his cavalry mto small 
squadrons, each led by a daring commander. They were 
taught to hover round the Christian camp; to harass it from 
various and opposite quarters, cutting off convoys and strag- 
gling detachments ; to waylay the army in its ravaging expe- 
ditions, lurking among rocks and passes of the mountains or 
in hollows and thickets of the plain, and practising a thousand 
stratagems and sm-prises. 

The Christian army had one day spread itself out rather 
unguardedly, in its foraging about the vega. As the troops 
commanded by the marques of Villena approached the skirts- 
of the mountains, they beheld a number of Moorish peasants 
hastily driving a herd of cattle into a narrow glen. The sol- 



TllK CONQUEST OF GRANADA. BOf) 

diers, eager for booty, pressed in pursuit of them. Scarcely 
had they entered the glen, when shouts arose from every side, 
and they were furiously attacked by an ambuscade of horse 
and foot. Some of the CJiristians took to flight ; others stood 
their ground, and fought valiantly. The Moors had the van- 
tage-ground ; some showered darts and arrov/s from the clitls 
of the rocks, others fought hand to hand on the plain; while 
their cavalry, rapid as lightning in their movements, cai-ried 
havoc and confusion into the midst of the Christian foi'ces. 

The marciues de Villena, with his brother Don Alonzo de 
Pacheco, at the first onset of the Moors, spurred into the hot- 
test of the fight. They had scarce entered, when Don Alonzo 
was struck lifeless from his horse, before the eyes of liis 
brother. Estevan de Luzon, a gallant captain, fell fighting 
bravely by the side of the marques, who remained, with his 
chamberlain Solier and a handful of knights, surrounded by 
the enemy. Several cavaliers from other parts of the army 
hastened to their assistance, when King Ferdinand, seeing 
that the Moors had the vantage-ground and that the Christians 
were suffering severely, gave signal for retreat. The marques 
obeyed slowly and reluctantly, for his heart was full of grief 
and rage at the death of his brother. As he was retiring, he 
beheld his faithful chamberlam Solier defending himself val- 
iantly against six Moors. The marques turned, and rushed to 
his rescue ; he killed two of the enemy with his own hand, and 
put the rest to flight. One of the Moors, however, in retreat- 
ing, rose in his stiri-ups, and, hurling his lance at the marques, 
wounded him in the right arm and crippled him for hfe.* 

Such was one of the many ambuscadoes concerted by Muza ; 
nor did he hesitate at times to present a bold front to the 
Christian forces, and to defy them in the open field. King 
Ferdinand soon perceived, how^ever, that the Moors seldom 
provoked a battle without having the advantage of the ground ; 
and that though the Christians generally appeared to have the 
victory, they suffered the greatest loss ; for retreating was a 
part of the Moorish system, by which they would draw their 



* In consequence of this wound, the marques was ever after obliged to write his 
Biernatnre with his left hand, though capable of managing his lance with his right. 
The queen one day demanded of him, why he had adventured his life for that of a 
domestic? " Does not your majesty think." replied he. " that I ought to risk one 
life for him who would have adventured three for me had he possessed them?" 
The queen was charmed with the magnanimity of the reply, and often quoted the 
marques as an heroic example to the chivalry of the age.— 3/aj-tona, lib. Ji5. c. 15. 



306 2Y7iS7 CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

pursuers into confusion, and then turn upon them with a more 
violent and fatal attack. He commanded his captains, there- 
fore, to decline all challenges to skirmish, and to pursue a sure 
system of destruction, ravaging the country, and doing all 
possible injury to the enemy, with shght risk to themselves. 



CHAPTER XL. 

THE FATE OF THE CASTLE OP ROMA. 

About two leagues from Granada, on an eminence com- 
manding an extensive view of the vega, stood the strong 
Moorish castle of Roma, a great place of refuge and security. 
Hither the neighbormg peasantry drove their flocks and herds, 
and hurried with their most precious effects, on the irruption 
of a Christian force ; and any foraging or skirmishing party 
from Granada, on being intercepted in their return, threw 
themselves into Roma, manned its embattled towers, and set 
the enemy at defiance. The garrison were accustomed to 
these sudden claims upon their protection; to have parties of 
Moors clattering up to their gates, so hotly pursued that there 
was barely time to throw open the portal, receive them within, 
and shut out their pursuers ; while the Christian ca^ ahers had 
many a time reined in their panting steeds at the very en- 
trance of the barbacan, and retired, cursing the strong walls 
of Roma, that robbed them of their prey. 

The late ravages of Ferdinand, and the continual skirmish- 
ings in the vega, had roused the vigilance of the castle. One 
morning early, as the sentinels kept watch upon the battle- 
ments, they beheld a cloud of dust advancing rapidly from a 
distance: turbans and Moorish weapons soon caught their 
eyes ; and as the whole approached, they descried a drove of 
cattle, urged on in great haste, and convoyed by one hundred 
and fifty Moors, who led with them two Christian captives in 
chains. 

When the cavalgada had arrived near to the castle, a Moor- 
ish cavalier, of noble and commanding mien and splendid 
attire, rode up to the foot of the tower, and entreated admit- 
tance. He stated that they were returning with rich booty 
from a foray into the lands of the Christians, but that the 
enemy was on their traces, and the v feared to be overtaken 



THE CONQUKIST OF GRANADA. 307 

before they could reach Granada. The sentinels descended in 

all haste, and flung open the gates. The long cavalgada 
defiled into the coiu-ts of tlie castle, which were soon filled 
witii lowijig and bleating flocks and herds, with neighing and 
stamping steeds, and with fierce-looking Moors from the moun- 
ta,ins. The cavalier who had asked admission was the chief of 
•the party ; he was somewhat advanced in life, of a lof tj- and 
gallant bearing, and had with him a son, a young man of 
great fire and spirit. Close by them followed the two Christian 
cai>tives, with looks cast down and disconsolate. 

The soldiers of the gai-rison had roused themselves from 
their sleep, and were busily occupied attending to the cattle 
which crowded the courts; while the foraging party distrib- 
uted themselves about the castle, to seek refreslunent or re- 
pose. Suddenly a shout arose, that was echoed from court- 
yard, and hall, and battlement. The garrison, astonished and 
bewildered, would have rushed to their arms, but found them- 
selves, ahnost before they could make resistance, completely 
in the power of an enemy. 

The pretended foraging party consisted of Mudexares, or 
Moors tributary to the Christians ; and the commanders were 
the prince Cidi Yahye, and his son Alnayer. They had hast- 
ened from the mountains mth this small force, to aid the 
Catholic sovereigns during the summer's campaign ; and they 
had concerted to sui^rise this important castle, and present it 
to King Ferdinand, as a gage of their faith, and ihe first fruits 
of tlieir devotion. 

The polite monarch overwhelmed his new converts and allies 
with favors and distinctions, in return for this important 
acquisition; but he took care to despatch a strong force of 
veteran and genuine Christian troops, to man the fortress. 

As to the Moors who had composed the garrison, Cidi Yahyo 
remembered that they were his country -men, and could not 
prevail upon himself to deUver them into Christian bondage. 
+Hc set them at liberty, and permitted them to repair to G ra- 
nada; — " a proof ," says the pious Agapida, "that his conver- 
I sion was not entirely consummated, but that there were still 
I some lingerings of the infidel in his heart." His lenity w^as far 
1 from procuring him indulgence in the opinions of his country- 
men ; on the contrary, the inhabitants of Granada, when they 
learnt from the liberated garrison the stratagem by which 
Roma had been captured, cursed Cidi Yahye for a traitor ; and 
i the garrison .ioined in the malediction. 



e06 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA, 

Bat tlie indignation of the people of Granada was destined 
to b3 aroused to tenfold violence. The old warrior Muley Ab- 
dalla el Zagal had retired to iiis little mountain territory, and 
for a short time endeavored to console himself Math his petty 
litlo of king of Andarax. He soon grew impatient, however, 
of the quiet and inaction of his mimic kingdom. His fierce 
spirit was exasperated, by being shut up within such narrow 
hniits, and his hatred rose to downright fury against Boabdil, 
whom he considered as the cause of his downfall. When 
tidings were brought him that Idng Ferdinand was laying 
waste the vega, he took a sudden resolution. Assembling the 
whole disijosa.ble force of his kingdom, which amounted but to 
two hundred men, he descended from the Alpuxarras and 
sought the Christian camp, content to serve as a vassal the 
enemy of his faith and his nation, so that he might see Gra- 
nada wrested from the sway of his nephew. 

In his blind passion, the old wrathful monarch injured Ms 
cause, and strengthened the cause of his adversary. The 
Moors of Granada had been clamorous in his praise, extoll- 
ing him as a victim to his patriotism, and had refused to 
believe all reports of his patriotism, and had refused to be- 
lieve all reports of his treaty with the Christians ; but when 
they beheld from the walls of the city, his banner mingling 
with the banners of the unbelievers, and arrayed against his 
late people, and the capital he had commanded, they broke 
forth into curses and revilings, and heaped all kind of stigmas 
upon his name. 

Their next emotion, of course, was in favor of Boabdil. They 
gathered under the walls of the Alhambra, and hailed him as 
their only hope, as the sole dependence of the country. Boab- 
dil could scarcely believe his senses, when he heard his name 
mingled with praises and greeted with acclamations. Encour- 
aged by this unexpected gleam of popularity, he ventured forth 
from his retreat, and was received with rapture. All his past 
errors were attributed to the hardships of his fortune, and the 
usurpation of his tyrant uncle ; and whatever breath the popu' 
lace could spare from uttering curses on El Zagal, was ex' 
pended in shouts in honor of El Chico. 



Tllb: CONQUEST OF GRANADA 309 



CHAPTER XLI. 

HOW BOABDIL EL CHICO TOOK THE FIELD; AND HIS EXPEDITION 
AGAINST ALHENDIN, 

For thirty days had the vega been overrun by the Christian 
forces; and that vast plain, late so luxuriant and beautiful, 
was one wide scene of desolation. The destroying army, hav- 
ing accomplished its task, passed over the ridge of Pinos and 
wound up into the mountains, on the way to Coi-dova, bearing 
away the spoils of towns and villages, and driving off flocks 
and herds m long dusty columns. The sound of the last Clxus- 
tian trumpet died away alongithe side of the mountain ot El- 
vira, and not a hostile squadron was seen glistening on the 
mournful fields of the vega. 

The eyes ot Boabdil el Chico were at length opened to the 
real pohcy of king Ferdinand, and he saw tlmt he had no 
longer any thing to depend upon but the valor of his arm. No 
time was to be lost in hastening to counteract the efiect ot tho 
late Christian ravage, and in opening the channel for distant 
supplies to Granada. 

Scarcely had the retiring squadrons of Ferdinand disap- 
peared among the mountains, when Boabdil buciiled on his 
armor, sallied forth from the Alhambra, and prepared to take 
the field. When the populace beheld him actually in arms 
against his late ally, both parties thronged with zeal to his 
standard. The hardy inhabitants also of tlie Sierra Nevada, 
or chain of snow-capped mountains which rise above Granada, 
descended from their heights, and hastened into the city gatcp, 
to proffer their devotion to their youthful king. The grcr^t 
square of the Vivarrambla shone Avith the proud arrny ot 
legions of cavalry, decked with the colors and devices of tV-o 
most ancient Moorish families, and marshalled forth by tao 
patriot Muza to follow the king to battle. 

It was on the 15th of June that Boabdil once more issued 
forth from the gates of Granada on martial enterprise. A few 
leagues from the city, within full view of it, and at the en- 
trance of the Alpuxarra mountains, stood the powerful castle 
of Alhendin. It was built on an eminence, rifling from tlie 
paidst of a small town, and commanding a great part of the 



310 ^^E CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

vega, and the main road to the rich valleys of the Alpuxarras. 
The castle was commanded by a vahant Christian cavalier 
named Mendo de Quexada, and garrisoned by two hundred 
and fifty men, all seasoned and experienced warriors. It was 
a continual thorn in the side of Granada : the laborers of the 
vega were swept off from their fields, by its hardy soldiers ; 
cenvoys were cut off, in the passes of the mountains ; and as 
the garrison commanded a full view of the gates of the city, 
no band of merchants could venture forth on their needful 
journeys, without being swooped up by the war-hawks of 
Alhendin. 

It was against this important fortress, that Boabdil led his 
troops. For six days and nights, the fortress was closely be- 
sieged. The alcayde and his veteran garrison defended them- 
selves valiantly, but they were exhausted by fatigue and con- 
stant watchfulness ; for the Moors, being continually relieved 
by fresh troops from Granada, kept up an unremitted and vig- 
orous attack. Twice the barbacan was forced, and twice the 
assailants were driven forth headlong with excessive loss. 
The garrison, however, was diminished in number by the 
killed and wounded ; there were no longer soldiers sufficient 
to man the walls and gateway; and the brave alcayde was 
compelled to retire, with his surviving force, to the keep of 
the castle, in which he continued to make desperate resistance. 

The Moors now approached the foot of the tower, under 
shelter of wooden screens covered with wet hides, to ward off 
missiles and combustibles. They went to work vigorously to 
undermine the tower, placing props of wood under the founda- 
tions, to be afterwards set on fire, so as to give the besiegers 
time to escape before the edifice should fall Some of the 
Moors phed their cross-bows and arquebusses to defend the 
workmen, and to drive the Christians from the wall ; while 
the latter showered down stones, and darts, and melted pitch, 
and flaming combustibles, on the miners. 

The brave Mendo de Quexada had cast many an anxious eye 
across the vega, in hopes of seeing some Christian force hast- 
ening to his assistance. Not a gleam of spear or helm was to 
be descried, for no one had dreamt of this sudden irruption 
of the Moors. The alcayde beheld his bravest men dead or 
wounded around him, while the remainder were sinking with 
watchfulness and fatigue. In defiance of all opposition, the 
Moors had accomplished their mine ; the fire was brought be- 
fore the walls, that was to be applied to the stanchions, in case 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 311 

the garrison persisted in defence. In a little while, the towei* 
would crumble beneath him, and be rent and hurled a i-uin to 
the plain. At the very last moment, the brave alcayde made 
the signal of surrender. He marched forth with the remnant 
of his veteran garrison, who Avere all made prisoners. BoabdiJ 
inmiediately ordered the walls of the fortress to be razed, ant? 
fire to be applied to the stanchions, that the place might never 
again become a strong-hold to the Christians, and a scourge to 
Granada. The alcayde and his fellow-captives were led in de- 
jected convoy across the vega, when they heard a tremendous 
crash behind them. They turned to look upon their late for- 
tress, but beheld nothing but a heap of tumbling ruins, and a 
vast column of smoke and dust, where once had stood the lofty 
tower of Alhendin. 



CHAPTER XLII. 

EXPLOIT OP THE COUNT DE TENDILLA. 

BoABDiL EL Chico followcd up liis succcss, by capturing the 
two fortresses of Marchena and Buldy ; he sent his alfaquis in 
every direction, to proclaim a holy war, and to summon all 
true Moslems of town or castle, mountain or valley, to saddle 
steed and buckle on armor, and hasten to the stoi^dard of the 
faith. The tidings spread far and wide, that Boabdil el Chico 
was once more in the field, and was victorious. The Moors of 
various places, diizzled by this gleam of success, hastened to 
throw off their sworn allegiance to the Castilian cro^vn, and to 
elevate the standard of Boabdil; and the youthful monarch 
flattered himself that the whole kingdom was on the point of 
returning to its allegiance. 

The fiery cavaliers of Granada were eager to renew those 
forays into the Christian lands, in which they had formerly 
delighted. A number of them therefore concerted an irruption 
to the north, into the territory of Jaen, to harass the country 
about Quezada. They had heard of a rich convoy of merchants 
smd wealthy travellers, on the way to the city of Baza; and 
they anticipated a glorious conclusion to their foray, in cap- 
taring this convoy. 

Assembling a number of horsemen, lightly armed and fleetly 



312 TUE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

mounted, and one hundred foot-soldiers, these hardy cavaliers 
issued forth by night from Granada, made their way in silence 
through the defiles of the mountains, crossed the frontier Avith- 
out opposition, and suddenly appeared, as if fallen from the 
clouds, m the very heart of the Christian country. 

The mountainous frontier whicli separate^ Granada from 
Jaen was at this time under the command of the count de 
Tendilla, the same veteran who had distinguished himself by 
his vigilance and sagacity when commanding the fortress of 
Albania. He held his head-quarters at the city of Alcala la 
Eeal, in its impregnable fortress, perched high among the 
mountains, about six leagues from Granada, and dominating 
all the frontier. From this cloud-capt hold among the rocks, 
he kept an eagle eye upon Granada, and had his scouts and 
spies in all directions, so that a crov/ could not fly over the 
border without liis knowledge. His fortress was a place of 
refuge for the Christian captives who escaped by night from 
the Moorish dungeons of Granada. Often, however, they mis- 
sed their way in the defiles of the mountains, and, wandering 
about bewildered, either repaired by mistake to some Moorish 
town, or were discovered and retaken at daylight by the enemy. 
To prevent these accidents, the count had a tower built at his 
own expense, on the top of one of the heights near Alcala, 
wliich commanded a view of the vega and the surrounding 
country. Here he kept a light blazing throughout the night^ 
as a beacon for all Christian fugitives, to guide them to a place 
of safety. 

The count was aroused one night from his repose, by shouts 
and cries, which came up from the town and approached the 
castle walls. "To arms! to arms! the Moor is over the bor- 
der!" was the cry. A Christian soldier, pale and emaciated, 
and who still bore traces of the Moorish chains, was brought 
before the count. He had been taken as guide by the Moorish 
cavaliers who had sallied from Granada, but had escaped from 
them among the mountains, and, after much wandering, had 
found his way to Alcala, by the signal-fire. 

Notwithstanding the bustle and agitation of the moment, the 
count de Tendilla listened calmly and attentively to the ac- 
count of the fugitive, and questioned him minutely as to the 
time of departure of the Moors, and the rapidity and direction 
of their march. He saw that it was too late to prevent their 
incursion and ravage ; but he determined to await them, aiid 
give them a warm reception on their return. His soldiers 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 31;] 

were always on the alert, and rendy to take the field at a iiio- 
nient's warning?. Choosing one lumdred and fifty lances, 
hardy and valiant nien, well disciplined and well seasoned, as 
mdeed were all his troops, he issued forth quietly belorc break 
of day, and, descending through the deliles of the mountains, 
stationed his little force in ambush, in a deep barranca, or 
dry channel of a torrent, near iJarzina, but three leagues from 
Granada, on the road by Avhich the marauders would have to 
return. In the mean time, he sent out scouts, to posts them- 
selves upon different heights, and look out for the approach of 
enemy. 

All day they remained concealed in the ravine, and for a 
great part of the following night; not a turban, however, was 
to be seen, excepting now and then a peasant returiiing from 
his labor, or a solitary muleteer hastening towards Gi-anada. 
The cavaliei's of the count began to grow restless and impatient ; 
they feared that the enemy might have taken some other route, 
or might have received intelligence of their ambuscade. They 
urged the count to abandon the enterprise, and return to Alcala. 
*' We are here," said they, " almost at the gates of the Jloorish 
capital; our movements may have been descried, and, before 
we are aware, Granada may pour forth its legions of swift 
cavalry, and crush us with an overAvhelming force." The 
count de Tendilla, however, persisted in remaining until his 
scouts should come in. About two hours before daybreak, 
there were signal-fires on certain Moorish watch-towers of the 
mountains. While they were regarding these with anxiety, 
the scouts came hurrying into the ravine: "The Moors are 
approaching," said they ; "we have reconnoitred them near at 
hand. They are between one and two hundred strong, but 
encimibered with many prisoners and much booty." Tlie 
Christian cavaliers laid their ears to the ground, and heard the 
distant tramp of horses end the tread of foot-soldiers. They 
mounted their horses, braced their shields, couched their 
lances, and drew near to the entrance of the ravine where it 
opened upon the road. 

The I^Ioors had succeeded in waylaying and surprising the 
Christian convoy, on its way to Baza. They had captured a 
great number of prisoners, male and female, with great store 
of gold and jewels, and sumpter mules laden with rich mer- 
chandise. With these they had made a forced march over the 
dangerous parts of the mountains; but now, finding themselves 
80 near to Granada, they fancied themselves in perfect security. 



V.' 



314 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

They loitered along the road, therefore, irregularly and slowly, 
some singing, others laughing and exulting at having eluded 
the boasted vigilance of the count de Tendilla ; while ever and 
anon were heard the plaint of some female captive bewailing 
the jeopardy of her honor ; and the heavy sighing of the mer- 
chant at beholding his property in the grasp of ruthless spoilers, 

The count de Tendilla waited until some of the escort had 
passed the ravine ; then, giving the signal for assault, his cav- 
aliers set up great shouts and cries, and charged furiously int 
the centre of the foe. The obscurity of the place and the houi 
added to the terrors of the surprise. The Moors were thrown 
into confusion; some rallied, fought desperately, and fell cov-. 
ered with wounds. Thirty-six were killed, and fifty-five werej 
made prisoners; the rest, under cover of the darkness, made 
their escape to the rocks and defiles of the mountains. 

The good count unbound the prisoners, gladdening the hearts; 
of the merchants by restoring to them their merchandise.! 
To the female captives also he restored the jewels of which 
they had been despoiled, excepting such as had been lost be- 
yond recovery. Forty-five saddle horses, of the choice Bar- 
bary breed, remained as captured spoils of the Moors, together^ 
with costly armor, and booty of various kinds. Having collec-i 
ted every thing in haste, and arranged his cavalgada, the; 
count urged his way with all speed for Alca la Real, lest he 
should be pursued and overtaken by the Moors of Granada. 
As he wound up the steep ascent to liis mountain city, the 
inhabitants poured forth to meet him with shouts of joy. His 
triumph was doubly enhanced by being received at the gates 
of the city by his wife, the daughter of the marques of Vil- 
lena, a lady of distinguished merit, whom he had not seen for 
two years, that he had been separated from his home by the 
arduous duties of these iron wars. 



CHAPTER XLin. 



EXPEDITION OF BOABDIL EL CHICO AGAINST SALOBRENA — EX- 
PLOIT OF HERNANDO PEREZ DEL PULGAR. 

HiNG BoABDiL found that his diminished territory was too 
closely dominated by Christian fortresses like Alcala la Real, 
and too strictly watched by vigilant alcaydes like the count of 



TBJS ( ^JVQVTf^T OF GRANADA. ' 3I5 

Tendilla, to be ablo to maintain itself by internal resources. 
His foraging expeditions were liable to be intercepted and 
defeated, while the ravage of the vega had swept off every 
thing on Avhich the city depended for futnre sustenance. Ho 
felt the want of a sea-port, through which, as formerly, ho 
might keep open a communication with Africa, and oi^ain 
reinforcements and supplies from beyond the sea. All Uw 
ports and harbors were in the hands of the Christians, and 
Granada and its remnant of dependent territory were com- 
pletely landlocked. 

In this emergency, the attention of Boabdil was called by 
circumstances to the sea-port of Salobreila. This redoubtable 
town has already been mentioned in this chronicle, as a place 
deemed impregnable by the Moors ; insomuch that their kings 
were accustomed, in time of peril, to keep their treasures in its 
citadel. It was situated on a rocky hill, dividing one of those 
rich little vegas or plains wliich lie open to the Mediterranean, 
but run like deep green bays into the stern bosoms of the moun- 
tains. The vega was covered with beautiful vegetation, with 
rice and cotton, with groves of oranges, citrons, figs and mul- 
berries, and with gardens enclosed by hedges of reeds, of aloes 
and the Indian fig. Running streams of cool water from the 
springs and snows of the Sierra Nevada, kept this delightful 
valley continually fresh and verdant; while it was almost 
locked up by mountain barriers, and lofty promontories that 
stretched far into the sea. 

Through the centre of this rich vega, the rock of Salobrena 
reared its nigged back, nearly dividing the plain, and advanc- 
ng: to the margin of the sea, with just a strip of sandy beach 
it its foot, laved by the blue waves of the Mediterranean. 

The town covered the ridge and sides of the rocky hill, and 
jras fortified by strong walls and towers; while on the highest 
md most precipitous part stood the citadel, a huge castle that 
leemed to form a part of the living rock ; the massive ruins of 
vhich, at the present day, attract the gaze of the traveller, as 
\e winds his way far below, along the road which passes 
hrough the vega. 

This important fortress had been intrusted to the conunand 
f Don Francisco Ramirez de Madrid, captain-general of the 
-rtillery, and the most scientific of all the Spanish leaders 
Tiat experienced veteran, however, was with the king at Cor 

va, having left a valiant cavalier as alcayde of the place. 

Boabdil el Chico had full information of the state of the gar 



316 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

rison and the absence of its commander. Putting himself a1 
the head of a powerful force, therefore, he departed from Gra 
nada, and made a rapid march through the mountains; hop' 
ing, by this sudden move, to seize upon Salobrena before kins 
Ferdinand could come to its assistance. 

The inhabitants of Salobrena were Mudexares, or Moors whc 
had sworn allegiance to the Christians. Still, when they hearc 
the sound of the Moorish drums and trumpets, and beheld tlie 
squadrons of their countrymen advancing across the vega 
their hearts yearned towards the standard of their nation anc 
their faith. A tumult arose in the place ; the populace shoutec' 
the name of Boabdil el Chico, and, throwing open the gates 
admitted him within the walls. 

The Christian garrison was too few in number to contenc 
for the possession of the town ; they retreated to the citadel \ 
and shut themselves within its massive walls, which were con 
sidered impregnable. Here they maintained a desperat( 
defence, hoping to hold out until succor should arrive from th( 
neighboring fortresses. 

The tidings tha.t Salobrena was invested by the Moorisl 
king, spread along the sea-coast, and filled the Christians witl 
alarm. Don Francisco Enriquez, uncle of the king, com 
manded the city of Veiez Malaga, about twelve leagues distant 
but separated by ranges of those vast rocky mountains whicl 
are piled along the Mediterranean, and tower in steep promon 
tories and precipices above its waves. 

Don Francisco summoned the alcaydes of his district to has | 
ten with him to the relief of this important fortress. A numbe 
of cavahers and their retainers answered to his call, amonj 
whom was Fernando Perez del Pulgar, surnamed " El de la 
Hazanas," (he of the exploits,)— the same who had signalize( 
himself in a foray, by elevating a handkerchief on a lance for { 
banner, and leading on his disheartened comrades to victory 
As soon as Don Francisco beheld a little band collected roum 
ihim, he set out with all speed for Salobreiia. The march wa 
rugged and severe, climbing and descending immense moun 
tains, and sometimes winding along the edge of giddy preci 
pices, with the surges of the sea raging far below. When Do: 
Francisco arrived with his followers at the lofty promontor; 
that stretches along one side of the little vega of Salobrena, h. 
looked doAvn with sorrow and anxiety upon a Moorish army o 
great force encamped at the foot of the fortress, while Moorisl 
banners, on various parts of the walls, showed that the towj 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 3l7 

was already in possession of the infidels. A solitary Christian 
standard alone floated on the top of tlie castlr keep, siiowing 
that the brave garrison were hemmed up in their rock-built 
citadel. 

Don Francisco found it inijiossiblo, with his small force, to 
make any impression on the camp of the I\Iooi-s, or to get to 
the relief of the castle. lie stationed his little band upon 
a rocky height near the sea, where tiiey Averc safe from the 
assaults of the enemy. The sight of his friendly banner.waving 
in their neighborhood cheered the heart of the garrison, and 
conveyed to them assurance of speedy succor from the king. 

In the mean time, Fernando Perez del Pulgar, w^ho always 
burned to distinguish himself by bold and striking exploits, in 
the course of a prowling expedition along the borders of the 
Moorish camp, remarked a postern-gate of the castle, opening 
upon the steep part of the rocky hill which looked towards the 
mountains. 

A sudden though flashed upon the darmg mind of Pulgnr: — 
*' Who will follow my banner;" said he, "and make a dash for 
yonder postern?" A bold i^roposition, in time of warfare, 
never wants for bold spirits to accept it. Seventy resolute 
men immediately stepped forward. Pulgar put himself at 
their head ; they cut their way suddenly thr«3ugh a weak part 
of the camp, fought their way up to the gate, which was 
eagerly thrown open to receive them ; and succeeded in mak- 
ing their way into the fortress, before the alarm of their 
attempt had spread through the Moorish army. 

The garrison was roused to new spirit by this unlooked-for 
reinforcement, and were enabled to make a more vigorous 
resistance. The Moors had intelligence, however, that there 
\ras a great scarcity of water in tlie castle ; and they exulted 
in the idea that this additional number of warrioi'S would soon 
exhaust the cisterns, and compel them to surrender. When 
Pulgar heard of this hope entertamed by ^he enemy, he caused 
a bucket of water to be lowered irom the battlements, and 
threw a silver cup in bravado to the ]\Ioors. 

The situation of the garrison, however, w^as daily growing 
more and more critical; they sulfc^red greatly from thirst, 
while, to tantalize them in their sufferings, they beheld innpid 
streams winding in abundance through the green plain below 
them. They began to fear that all succor would arrive too 
late, when one day they beheld a little scjuadron of vessels far 
I at sea, but standing towards the shore. There was some doubt 



gig THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

at first whether it might not be a hostile armament from 
Africa ; but as it approached, they descried, to their great joy, 
the bamier of Castile. 

It was a reinforcement, brought in all haste by the gov- 
ernor of the fortress, Don Francisco Ramirez. The squadron 
anchored at a steep rocky island, which rises from the very 
margin of the smooth sandy beach, directly in front of the 
rock of Salobrena, and stretches out into the sea. On this 
island Ramirez landed his men, and was as strongly posted as 
if in a fortress. His force was too scanty to attempt a battle, 
but he assisted to harass and distract the besiegers. When- 
ever king Boabdil made an attack upon the fortress, his camp 
was assailed on one side by the troops of Ramirez, who landed 
from then' island, and on another by those of Don Francisco 
Enriquez, who swept down from their rock, while Fernando 
del Pulgar kept up a fierce defence, from every tower and 
battlement of the castle. 

The attention of the Moorish king was diverted, also, for a 
time, by an ineffectual attempt* to relieve the little port of 
Adra, which had recently declared in his favor, but which had 
been recaptured for the Christians by Cidi Yahye and his son 
Alnayar. Thus the unlucky Boadbil, bewildered on every 
hand, lost all the advantage that he had gained by his rapid 
march from Granada. While he was yet besieging the ob- 
stinate citadel, tidings were brought him that king Ferdinand 
was in full march with a powerful host, to its assistance. 
There was no time for further delay ; he made a furious attack 
Avith all his forces upon the castle, but was again repulsed by 
Pulgar and his coadjutors; when, abandoning the siege in 
despair, he retreated with his army, lest king Ferdinand 
should get between him and his capital. On his way back to 
Granada, however, he in some sort consoled himself for his 
late disappointment, by overrunning a part of the territories 
and possessions lately assigned to Jiis uncle El Zagal, and to 
Cidi Yahye. He defeated their alcaydes, destroyed several of 
their fortresses, burnt their villages, and leaving the country 
behind him reeking and smoking with his vengeance, returned 
with considerable booty, to repose himself within the walls of 
the Alhambra. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 319 



CHAPTER XLIV. 

now KING FERDINAND TREATED THE PEOPLE OF GUADIX— AND 
HOW EL ZAGAL FINISHED HIS REGAL CAREER. 

Scarcely had Boabdil ensconced himself in his capital, when 
king Ferdinand, at the head of seven thousand horse and 
twenty thousand foot, again appeared in the vega. He had 
set out in all haste from Cordova to the relief of Salobreiia ; 
but, hearing on his march that the siege was raised, he turned 
with his army to make a second ravage round the walls of 
devoted Granada. His present forage lasted fifteen days, in 
the course of which every tiling that had escaped his former 
desolating visit was destroyed, and scarce a green thing or a 
living animal was left on the face of the land. The Moors 
sallied frequently, and fought desperately, in defence of their 
fields, but the work of destruction was accomplished — and 
Granada, once the queen of gardens, was left surrounded by a 
desert. 

From hence Ferdinand marched to crush a conspiracy which 
had lately manifested itself in the cities of Guadix, Baza, and 
Almeria. These recently conquered places had entered into 
secret correspondence with king Boabdil, inviting him to 
march to their gates, promising to rise upon the Christian 
garrisons, seize upon the citadels, and surrender themselves 
into his power. The marques of Villena had received notice of 
the conspiracy, and had suddenly thrown himself, with a 
large force, into Guadix. Under pretence of making a review 
of the inhabitants, he made them sally forth into the fields be- 
fore the city. When the whole Moorish population capable of 
bearing arms was thus ^vithout the walls, he ordered the gates 
to be closed. He then permitted them to enter, two by two 
and three by three, and to take forth their wives, children, and 
effects. The houseless Moors were fain to make themselves 
temporary hovels, in the gardens and orchards about the city; 
they were clamorous in their complaints at being thus ex- 
cluded from their homes, but were told they must wait with 
patience until the charges against them could be investigated, 
and the pleasui'e of the king be known.* 

* Zurita, lib. 20, c. 85. Cura de lo.s Palacios, c. 97. 



320 THE CONQUEST OF Oil AN AD A. 

When Ferdinand arriv^ed a^t Guadix, he found the unhappy 
Moors in their cabins among the orchards. They complained 
bitterly of the deception that had been practised among them, 
and implored permission to return to the city, and live i^eace- 
ably in their dwellings, as had been promised them in their 
articles of capitulation. 

King Ferdinand listened graciously to their complaints: 
"My friends," said he, in reply, "I am informed that there 
has been a conspiracy among you to kill my alcayde and gar- 
rison, and to take part with my enemy the king of Granada. 
I shall make a thorough investigation of this conspiracy. 
Those a.mong you who shall be proved innocent shall be re- 
stored to their dwellings, but the guilty shall incur the penalty 
of their offences. As I wish, however, to proceed with mercy 
as well as justice, I now give you your choice, either to depart 
at once without further question, going wherever you please, 
and taking with you your families and effects, undei' an assur- 
ance of safety ; or to deliver up those who are guilty, not one 
of w^hom, I give you my royal word, shall escape punishment." 

V/hen the people of Guadix heard these words, they com- 
muned among themselves; and as most of them (says the 
worthy Agapida) were either culpable or feared to be con- 
sidered so, they accepted the alternative, p,nd departed sorrow- 
fully, they and their wives and their little ones. "Thus," in 
the words of that excellent and cotemporary historian, Andres 
Bernaldoz, conunonly called the curate of Los Palacios — "thus 
did the king deliver Guadix from the hands of the enemies of 
our holy faith, after seven hundred and seventy years that it 
had been in their possession, ever since the time of Roderick 
the Goth ; and this was one of the mysteries of our Lord, who 
would not consent that the city should remain longer in the 
power of the Moors:" — a pious and sage remark, which is 
quoted ^vith peculiar approbation by the worthy Agapida. 

King Ferdinand offered similar alternatives to the Moors of 
Baza, Almeria, and other cities accused of participation in this 
conspiracy ; who generally preferred to abandon their homes, 
rather than incur the risk of an investigation. Most of them 
relinquished Spain, as a country where they could no longer 
live in security and independence, and departed with their 
families for Africa ; such as remained were suffered to live ia 
villages and hamlets, and other unwalled places.* 

* Garibay, lib. 13, cap. 39. Piilgar, part 3, cap. 132. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 321 

While Ferdinand was thus occupied at Guadix, dispensing 
justice and mercy, and receiving cities in exchange, the old 
monarch Muley Abdalla, surnanied El Zagal, appeared before 
him. He was haggard with care, and almost crazed with ])as- 
sion. He had found liis little territory of Andarax, and liis 
two thousand subjects, as difficult to govern as had been the 
distracted kingdom of Granada. The charm, which had 
bound the Moors to him, was broken when he appeared in 
arms under the banner of Ferdinand. He had returned from 
his ingloi'ious campaign with his petty army of two hundred 
men, followed by the execrations of the people of Granada, 
and the secret repining of those he had led into the field. No 
sooner liad his subjects heard of the successes of Boabdil el 
Chico, than they had siezed their arms, assembled tumultu- 
ously, declared for the young monarch, and threatened the life 
of El Zagal.* The unfortunate old king had with difficulty 
evaded their fury ; and this last lesson seemed entirely to have 
cured him of his passion for sovereignty. He now entreated 
Ferdinand to purchase the towns and castles and other posses- 
sions which had been gi^anted to him ; offering them at a low 
rate, and begging safe passage for himseK and his followers to 
Africa. King Ferdinand graciously complied with his wishes. 
He purchased of him three-and-twenty towns and villages in 
the valleys of Andarax and Alhaurin, for which he gave him 
five milhons of maravedies. El Zagal relinquished his right to 
one half of the salinas or salt-pits of ^Maleha, in favor of his 
brother-in-law Cidi Yahye. Having thus disposed of his petty 
empire and possessions, he packed up all his treasure, of which 
he had a great amount, and, followed by many Moorish fam- 
ines, passed over to Africa, f 

And here let us cast an eye beyond the present period of our 
chronicle, and trace the remaining career of El Za^al. His 
short and turbulent reign, and disastrous end, would afford a 
wholesome lesson to unprincipled ambition, were not all ambi- 
tion of the kind fated to be blind to precept and examj^le. 
"When he arrived in Africa, instead of meeting with kindness 
and sympathy, he was seized and thrown into prison by the 
king of Fez, as though he had been his vassal. He was ac- 
cused of being the cause of the dissensions and downfall of the 
kingdom of Granada ; and the accusation being proved to the 
satisfaction of the king of Fez, he condemned the unhappy El 

* Cura de los Palacios, caji. 97. t Coiule, part 4. cap. 41. 



322 ^'-^^^ CONQUEST OF Gx. \NADA. 

Zagal to perpetual darkness. A basin i. [ glowing copper was 
passed before bis eyes, which effectual! { destroyed his sight. 
His wealth, which bad prabably been the secret cause of 
these cruel measures, was confiscated a ad seized upon by his 
oppressor ; and El ZagaJ was thrust fori h, blind, helpless, and 
destitute, upon the world. In this wi Btched condition, the 
late Moorish monarch groped his way t hrough the regions of 
Tingitania, until he reached the city of "Xelez de Gomera. The 
king of Velez had formerly been his allj- , and felt some move- 
ment of compassion at his present altered and abject state. 
He gave him food and raiment, and suffered him to remain 
unmolested in his dominions. Death, which so often hurries 
off the prosperous and happy from the midst of untasted 
pleasures, spares, on the other hand, the miserable, to drain 
the last drop of his cup of bitterness. El Zagal dragged out a 
wretched existence of many years, in the city of Velez. He 
wandered about blind and disconsolate, an object of mingled 
scorn and pity, and bearing above his raiment a parchment, 
on which was written in Arabic, "This is the unfortmnate 
king of Andalusia." * 



CHAPTER XLV. 

PREPARATIONS OF GRANADA FOR A DESPERATE DEFENCE. 

How is thy strength departed, oh Granada? how is thy 
beauty withered and despoiled, oh city of groves and foun- 
tains ! The commerce that once thronged thy streets is at an 
end; the merchant no longer hastens to thy gates, with the 
luxuries of foreign lands. The cities v/hich once paid thee tri- 
bute are wrested from thy sway ; the chivalry which filled thy 
Vivarrambla mth the sumptuous pageantry of war, have 
fallen in many battles. The Alhambra still rears its ruddy 
towers from the midst of groves, but melancholy reigns in its 
marble halls; and the monarch looks down from his lofty 
balconies upon a naked waste, where once had extended the 
blooming glories of the vega ! 

Such is the lament of the Moorish v/riters, over the lament- 

* Marmol, de Rebelioiie Maur. lib. 1, cap. 16. Padraza, Hist. Granat, part 3, c. 4. 
Suarez, Hist, de Obispados de Guadix y Baza, cap. 10. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 323 

able state of Granada, which now remained a mere phantom 
of its former greatness. The two ravages of the vega, follow- 
ing so closely upon each other, had swept off all the produce 
of the year ; and the husbn ndman had no longer the heart to 
till the field, seeing that the ripening harvest only brought the 
spoiler to the door. 

During the winter season, king Ferdinand made diligent 
preparations for the last campaign, that was to decide the 
fate of Granada. As this war was waged purely for the pro- 
motion of the Christian faith, he thought it meet that its 
enemies should bear the expenses. lie levied, therefore, a 
general contribution upon all the Jews throughout his king- 
dom, by synagogues and districts ; and obliged them to render 
in the proceeds, at the city of Seville.* 

On the 11th of April, Ferdinand and Isabella departed for 
the Moorish frontier, with the solemn determination to lay 
close siege to Granada, and never to quit its walls until they 
had planted the standard of the faith on the towers of the 
Alhambra. Many of the nobles of the kingdom, particularly 
those from the parts remote from the scene of action, wearied 
by the toils of war, and foreseeing that this would be a tedious 
siege, requiring patience and vigilance rather than hardy 
deeds of arms, contented themselves with sendinp: their 
vassals, while they staid at home, to attend to their domains. 
Many cities furnished soldiers at their cost, and the king took 
the field with an army of forty thousand infantry and ten 
thousand horse. The principal captains who followed the 
king in this campaign, were Eoderigo Ponce de Leon, the 
marques of Cadiz, the Master of Santiago, the marques of 
Villena; the counts of Tendilla, Cifuentes, Cabra, andUrena; 
and Don Alonzo de Aguilar. 

Queen Isabella, accompanied by her son the Prince Juan, 
and by the prmcesses Juana, Maria, and Cathalina, her 
daughters, proceeded to Alcala la Real, the mountain fortress 
and strong-hold of the count de Tendilla. Here she remained, 
bo forward supplies to the army, and to be ready to repair to 
the camp, whenever her presence might be required. 

The army of Ferdinand poured into the vega, by various 
iefiles of the mountains; and on the 23d of April, the royal 
cent was pitched at a village called Los Ojos de Huescar, 
ibout a league and a half from Granada. At the approach of 



* Qaiibay, lib. 18, c. 39 



324 THE CONQUEST OF OUANADA. 

this formidable force, the harassed inhabitants turned pale' 
and even many of the warriors trembled ; for they felt that the 
last desperate struggle was at hand. 

Boabdil el Chico assembled his council in the Alhambra, 
from the windows of which they could behold the Christian 
squadrons glistening through clouds of dust, as they poured 
along the vega. The utmost confusion and consternation 
reigned in the council. Many of the members, terrified with 
the horrors impending over their families, advised Boabdil to 
throw himself upon the generosity of the Christian monarch : 
even several of the bravest suggested the possibility of obtain- 
ing honorable terms. 

The Wazir of the city, Abul Casim Abdel Melic, was called 
upon to report the state of the public means for sustenance and 
defence. There were sufficient provisions, he said, for a few 
months' supply, independent of what might exist in the posses- 
sion of merchants and other rich inhabitants. "But of what 
avail," said he, "is a supply for a few months, against the 
sieges of the Castilian monarch, which are interminable?" 

He produced, also, the lists of m.en capable of bearing arms. 
"The number," said he, "is great; but what can be expected 
from mere citizen soldiers? They vaunt and menace, in time 
of safety ; none are so arrogant, when the enemy is at a dis- 
tance — but when the din of war thunders at their gates, they 
hide themselves in terror." 

When Muza heard these words, he rose with generous 
warmth: " What reason have we," said he, "to despair? The 
blood of those illustrious Moors, the conquerors of Spain, still 
flows m our veins. Let us be true to ourselves, and fortune 
will again be with us. We have a veteran force, both horse 
and foot, the flower of our chivalry, seasoned in war and 
scarred in a thousand battles. As to the multitude of our 
citizens, spoken of so slightly, why should we doubt theii 
valor? There are twenty thousand young men, in the fire of 
youth, for whom I will engage, that in the defence of their 
homes they will rival the most valiant veterans. Do we want 
provisions? Our horses are fleet, and our horsemen daring in 
the foray. Let them scour and scourge the country of those 
apostate Moslems who have surrendered to the Christians. 
Let them make inroads into the lands of our enemies. We 
shall soon see them returning with cavalgaaas toourgaies; 
and, to a soldier, there is no morsel so sweet as that wrested 
with hard fighting from the foe. " 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 32 . 

Boabdil el Chico, though he wanted fii-m and durable 
courage, was readily excited to sudden emotions ol bravery. 
He caught a glow of resolution from the noble ardor of Muza. 
*' Do what is needful," said he to his commanders; "into your 
hands I confide the common safety. You are the protectors of 
the kingdom, and, with the aid of Allah, will revenge the in- 
sults of our religion, the deaths of our friends and relations, 
and the sorrows and sufferings heaped upon our land."* 

To every one was now assigned liis separate duty. The 
wazir had charge of the arms, and provisions, and the enroll- 
ing of the people. Muza was to command the cavalry, to 
defend the gates, and to take the lead in all sallies and skir- 
mishes Naim Reduan, and Muhamcd Aben Zayde, were his ad- 
jutants, Abdel Kerim Zegri, and the other captains, were to 
guard the walls ; and the alcaydes of the Alcazaba, and of 
the Red Towers, had command ol the fortresses. 

Nothing now was heard but the din of arms, and the bustle 
of prepai-ation. The Moorish spirit, quick to catch fire, was 
immediately in a flame ; and the populace, in the excitement 
of the moment, set at nought the power of the Christians. 
Muza was in all parts of the city, infusing his own generous 
zeal into the bosoms of the soldiery. The young cavaliers 
ralhed round him as their model; the veteran warriors re- 
garded him with a soldier's adniii^ation ; the vulgar throng 
followed him with shouts, and the helpless part of the inhabi- 
tants, the old men and the women, hailed him with blessings 
as their protector. 

On the first appearance of the Christian army, the principal 
gates of the city had been closed, and secured with bars and 
bolts and heavy chains : Muza now ordered them to be thrown 
open; "To me and my cavaliers," said he, "is intrusted the 
defence of the gates; our bodies shall be their barriers." He 
stationed at each gate a strong guard, chosen from his bravest 
men. His horsemen were always completely armed, and 
ready to mount at a moment's warning : their steeds stood 
saddled and caparisoned in the stables, with lance and buckler 
beside them. On the least approach of the enemy, a squadron 
of horsemen gathered within the gate, ready to lanch forth 
hke the bolt from the thunder-cloud. Muza made no empty 
bravado nor haughty threat; he was more terrible in deeds 
than in words, and executed daring exploits, beyond even the 

* Coude. 



326 5Y/^ CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

vaunt of the vainglorious. Such was the present champion of 
the Moors. Had they possessed many such warriors, or had 
Muza risen to i)ower at an earher period of the war, the fate 
of Granada might have been deferred, and the Moor for a long 
time have maintained his throne within the walls of the 
Alha^mbra. 



CHAPTER XLVI. 



HOW KING FERDINAND CONDUCTED THE SIEGE CAHTIOUSLY; AND 
HOW QUEEN ISABELLA ARRIVED AT THE CAMP. 

Though Granada was shorn of its glories, and nearly cut off 
from all external aid, still its mighty castles and massive bul- 
warks seemed to set all attacks at defiance. Being the last 
retreat of Moorish power, it had assembled within its walls the 
remnants of the armies that had contended, step by step, with 
the invaders, in their gradual conquest of the land. All that 
remained of high-born and high-bred chivalry, was here; all 
that was loyal and patriotic was roused to activity by the 
common danger; and Granada, that had so long been lulled 
into inaction by vain hopes of security, now assumed a for- 
midable aspect in the hour of its despair. 

Ferdinand saw that any attempt to subdue the city by main 
force, would be perilous and bloody. Cautious in his policy, 
and fond of conquests gained by art rather than valor, he 
resorted to the plan which had been so successful with Baza, 
and determined to reduce the place by famine. For this pur- 
pose, his armies penetrated into the very heart of the Al- 
puxarras, and ravaged the valleys, and sacked and burnt the 
towns, upon which the city depended for its supplies. Scout- 
ing parties, also, ranged the mountains behind Granada, and 
captured every casual convoy of provisions. The Moors 
became more daring, as their situation became more hopeless. 
Never had Ferdinand experienced such vigorous sallies and 
assaults. Muza, at the head of his cavalry, harassed the 
borders of the camp, and even penetrated into the interior, 
making sudden spoil and ravage, and leaving his course to be 
traced by the slain and wounded. To protect his camp from 
these assaults, Ferdinand fortified it with deep trenches and 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 327 

strong bulwarks. II was of a quadranp^ular forin, divided into 
streets like a city, tlie troops beinp: (juartered in tents, and in 
booths constructed of bushes and brandies of trees. When it 
was completed, queen Isabella came in state, with all her 
court, and the prince and princesses, to be present at tho 
siege. This was intended, as on former occasions, to reduce 
the besieged to despair, by showing the determination of the 
sovereigns to reside in the camp until the city should surren- 
der. Immediately after Iier arrival, the queen rode forth to 
survey the camp and its environs: wherever she went, she wag 
attended by a splendid retinue ; and all the commanders vied 
with each other, in the pomp and ceremony Avith whicli they 
received her. Nothing was heard, from morning until night, 
but shouts and acclamations, and bursts of martial music ; so 
that it appeared to the Moors as if a continual festival and 
triumph reigned in the Christian camp. 

The arrival of the queen, however, and the menaced obstin- 
acy of the siege, had no etrect in damping the fire of the Moor- 
ish chivalry. Muza inspired the youthful warriors with the 
most devoted heroism: "We have nothing left to fight for," 
said he, "but the ground we stand on; when this is lost, we 
cease to have a country and a name." 

Finding the Christian king forbore to make an attack, :Muza 
incited his cavaliers to challenge the youtliful chivalry of tho 
Christian army to single combat, or partial skii-mishes. Scarce 
a day passed A\nthout gallant conflicts of the kind, in sight of 
;he city and the camp. The combatants rivalled each other in 
the splendor of their armor and array, as well as in the prow- 
3ss of their deeds. Their contests were more like the stately 
ceremonials of tilts aiid tournaments, than the rude conflicts 
3f the field. Ferdinand soon perceived tliat they animated the 
lery Moors with fresh zeal and courage, while they cost the 
ives of many of his bravest cavaliers: he again, therefore, 
iorbade the acceptance of any individual challenges, and 
)rdered that all partial encounters should be avoided. The 
bol and stern policy of the Catholic sovereign bore hard upon 
he generous spirits of either army, but roused the indignation 
f the Moors, when they found that they were to be subdued 
m this inglorious manner: "Of what avail," said they, "are 
hivalry and heroic valor? the crafty monarch of the Chris- 
ians has no magnanimity in warfare ; he seeks to subdue us 
brough the weakness of our bodies, but shuns to encounter 
he courage of our souls." 



328 TEE CO jy QUEST OF GliAMABA, 



CHAPTER XLVII. 

t)F THE INSOLENT DEFIANCE OF YARFE THE MOOR, AND THB 
DARING EXPLOIT OF HERNAMDO PEREZ DEL PULGAR. 

When the Moorish knights beheld that all courteous chal- 
lenges were unavailing, they sought various means to provoke 
the Christian warriors to the field. Sometimes a body of 
them, fleetly mounted, would gallop up to the skirts of the 
camp, and try who should hurl his lance farthest within the 
barriers, having his name inscribed upon it, or a label affixed 
to it, containing some taunting defiance. These bravadoes 
caused great irritation, but still the Spanish warriors were 
restrained by the prohibition of the king. 

Among the Moorish cavaliers was one named Yarfe, re- 
nowned for his great strength and daring spirit ; but whose 
courage partook of fierce audacity, rather than chivalric hero- 
ism. In one of these sallies, when they were skirting the 
Christian camp, this arrogant Moor outstripped his compan- 
ions, overleaped the barriers, and, galloping close to the royal 
quarters, launched his lance so far within, that it remained 
quivering in the earth close by the pavilions of the sovereigns. 
The royal guards rashed forth in pursuit, but the Moorish 
horsemen were already beyond the camp, and scouring in a 
cloud of dust for the city. Upon wresting the lance from the 
earth, a label was found upon it, importing that it was m- 
tended for the queen. 

Nothing could equal the indignation of the Christian war - 
riors, at the insolence of the bravado, and the discourteous 
insult offered to the queen. Hernando Perez del Palgar, sur- 
named "he of the exploits," was present, and resolved not to 
be outbraved by this daring infidel: "Who Avill stand by me," 
said he, " in an enterprise of desperate peril?" The Christian 
cavaliers well knew the harebrained valor of Hernando del 
Pulgar, yet not one hesitated to step forward. He chose 
fifteen companions, all men of powerful arm and dauntless 
heart. In the dead of the night, he led them forth from the 
camp, and approached the city cautiously, until he arrived at 
a postern-gate, which opened upon the Darro, and was 
guarded by foot-soldiers. The guards, little thinking of such 



I 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA, 399 

an unwonted and partial attack, were for the most part asleep. 
The gate was forced, and a confused and chance-medley skir- 
mish ensued : Hernando del Pulgar stopped not to take part 
in the affray : putting spurs to his horse, he galloped furiously 
through the streets, sti-iking fire out of the stones at every 
bound. Arrived at the principal mosque, he sprang from his 
horse, and, kneeling at the portal, took possession of the edifice 
as a Christian chapel, dedicating it to the blessed virgin. In 
testimonial of the ceremony, he took a tablet which he had 
brought with liim, on which was inscribed in large characters, 
"Ave Maria," and nailed it to the door of the mos(iue with his 
dagger. This done, he remounted his steed, and galloped back 
to the gate. The alarm had been given — the city was in an 
uproar— soldiers were gathering from every direction. They 
were astonished at seeing a Christian warrior galloping from 
the interior of the city. Hernando del Pulgar overturned 
some, cut down others, rejoined his companions, who still 
maintained possession of the gate by dint of hard fighting, and 
all made good their retreat to the camp. The Moors were at 
a loss to imagine the meaning of this wild and apparently 
fruitless assault; but great was their exasperation, on the 
following day, when the trophy of hardihood and prowess, 
the " Ave Maria," was discovered thus elevated in bravado 
in the very centre of the city. The mosque thus boldly sancti- 
fied by Hernando del Pulgar was actually consecrated into a 
cathedral, after the captm-e of Granada.* 



CHAPTER XLVni. 

HOW QUEEN ISABELLA TOOK A VIEW OF THE CITY OF GRANADA 
—AND HOW HER CURIOSITY COST THE LIVES OF MANY CHRIS- 
TIANS AND MOORS. 

The royal encampment lay at such a distance from Gran- 
ada, that the general aspect of the city only coidd be seen, as 

*In commemoration of this daring feat, the emperor Charles V., in after years 
conferred on Pulgar and his descendants the right of sepulture in that church, and 
the privilege of sitting In the choir during high mass. This Hernando Perez del 
Pulgar was a man of letters, as well as arms, and inscribeti to Charles V. a sum- 
mary of the achievements of Gonsalvo of Cordova, surnamed the great captain, 
who had been one of his comrades in arms. He is often confounded with Hernando 
del Pulgar, historian and secretary to queen Isabella.— See note to Pulgar's Chron. 
of the Catholic Sovereigns, part 3, c. \A. edit. Valencia, ITSO. 



S30 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

it rose gracefully from the vega, covering the sides of the hills 
with palaces and towers. Queen Isabella had expressed an 
earnest desire to behold, nearer at hand, a city whose beauty 
was so renowned throughout the world ; and the marques of 
Cadiz, with the accustomed courtesy, prepared a great mili- 
tary escort and guard, to protect the queen and the ladies of 
the court, while they enjoyed this perilous gratification. 

It was on the morning after the events recorded in the pre- 
ceding chapter, that a magnificent and powerful train issued 
forth from the Christian camp. The advanced guard was com- 
posed of legions of cavalry, heavily armed, that looked like 
moving masses of polished steel. Then came the king and 
queen, with the prince and princess, and the ladies of the 
court, surrounded by the royal body-guard, sumptuously ar- 
rayed, composed of the sons of the most illustrious houses of 
Spain ; after these was the rear-guard, composed of a powerful 
force of horse and foot ; for the flower of the army sallied forth 
that day. The Moors gazed with fearful admiration at this 
glorious pageant, wherein the pomp of the court was mingled 
with the terrors of the camp. It moved along in a radiant 
line, across the vega, to thjQ melodious thunders of martial 
music; while banner and plume, and silken scarf, and rich 
brocade, gave a gay and gorgeous relief to the grim visage of 
iron war, that lurked beneath. 

The army moved towards the hamlet of Zubia, built on the 
skirts of the mountain to the left of Granada, and command- 
ing a view of the Alhambra, and the most beautiful quarter of 
the city. As they approached the hamlet, the marques of Vil- 
lena, the count Ureila, and Don Alonzo de Aguilar, filed off 
with their batta,lionc, and wore soon seen glittering along the 
side of the mountain above the village. In the mean time, tho 
marques of Cadiz, the count de Tendilla, the count de Cabra, 
and Don Alonzo Fernandez, Senior of Alcandrete and Monte- 
mayor, drew up their forces in battle array on the plain below 
the hamlet, presenting a living barrier of loyal chivalry be- 
tween the sovereigns and the city. 

Thus securely guarded, the royal i^arty alighted; and, enter= 
ing one of the houses of the hamlet, which had been prepared 
for their reception, enjoyed a full view of the city from its ter 
raced roof. The ladies of the court gazed with delight at the 
red towers of the Alhambra, rising from amidst shady groves, 
anticipating the time when the Catholic sovereigns should be 
enthroned within its walls, and its courts shine with the snlen- 



TUE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. J331 

dor of Spanish chivalry. "The reverend prelates and holy 
friars, who always surrounded the queen, looked with serene 
satisfaction," says Fray Antonio Agapida, "at this modem 
Babylon, enjoying the triumph that awaited them, when those 
mosques and minarets should be converted into churches, and 
goodly priests and bishops should succeed to the mfidel alfa- 
quis." 

When the Moors beheld the Christians thus drawn forth in 
full array in the plain, they supposed it was to offer them bat- 
tle ; and they hesitated not to accept it. In a httle while, the 
queen beheld a body of Moorish cavalry pouring into the vega, 
the riders managing their fleet and fiery steeds with admirable 
address. They were richly armed, and clothed in the most 
brilliant colors, and the caparisons of their steeds flamed with 
gold and embroidery. This was the favorite squadron of 
Muza, composed of the flower of the youthful cavaliers of 
Granada. Others succeeded, some heavily armed, some a la 
ginete with lance and buckler; and lastly came the legions of 
foot-soldiers, with arquebuss and cross-bow, and spear and 
scimitar. 

When the queen saw this army issuing from the city, she 
sent to the marques of Cadiz, and forbade any attack upon the 
enemy, or the acceptance of any challenge to a skirmish ; for 
she was loth that her curiosity should cost the life of a single 
human being. 

The marques promised to obey, though sorely against his 
will ; and it grieved the spii'it of the Spanish cavaliers, to be 
obliged to remain with sheathed swords while bearded by the 
foe. The Moors could not comprehend the meanmg of this 
inaction of the Christians, after having apparently invited a 
battle. They sallied several times from their ranks, and aj)- 
proached near enough to discharge their arrows; but the 
Christians were immovable. Many of the Moorish horsemen 
galloped close to the Christian ranks, brandishing their lances 
and scimitars, and defying various cavaliers to single combat ; 
but king Ferdinand had rigorously prohibited aU duels of the 
kind, and they dared not transgress his orders imder liis very 
eye. 

While this grim and reluctant tranquillity prevailed along 
the Christian line, there rose a mingled shout and sound of 
laughter near the gate of the city. A Moorish horseman, 
armed at all points, issued forth, followed by a rabble, who 
idrew back as he approached the scene of danger. The Moor 



333 THE COiVQUEST OF GllANADA. 

was more robust and brawny than was common with his comi- 
trynien. His visor was closed; he bore a huge buckler and a 
ponderous lance; his scimitar was of a Damascus D-iade, and 
his nchly ornamented dagger was wrought by an artificer of 
Fez. He was known by his device to be Yarfe, the most in- 
solent, yet valiant, of the Moslem warriors— the same v/ho had 
hurled into the royal camp his lance, inscribed to the queen. 
As he i ode slowly along in front of the army, his very steed, 
prancing with fiery eye and distended nostril, seemed to 
breathe defiance to the Christians. 

But what were the feehngs of the Spanish cavaliers, when 
they behe»M, tied to the tail of his steed, and dragged in the 
dust, the VQvj inscription, "Ave Maria," which Hernando 
Perez del Pulgar had afiixed to the door of the mosque ! A 
burst of horror and indignation broke forth from the army. 
Hernando del Pulgar was not at hand to maintain his previous 
achievement ; but one of his young companions in arms, Gar- 
cilasso de la Vega by name, putting spurs to his horse, gal- 
loped to the hamlet of Zubia, threw himself on his knees 
before the king, and besought permission to accept the defi- 
ance of this insolent infidel, and to revenge the insult offered 
to our blessed Lady. The request was too pious to be refused : 
Garcilasso remounted his steed; he closed his helmet, graced 
by four sable plumes, grasped his buckler of Flemish work- 
manship, and his lance of matchless temper, and defied the 
haughty Moor in the midst of his career. A combat took 
place in view of the two armies and of the Castilian court. 
The Moor was powerful in wielding his weapons, and dex- 
terous in managing his steed. He was of larger frame than 
Garcilasso, and more completely armed; and the Christians 
trembled for their champion. The shock of their encounter 
was dreadful ; their lances were shivered, and sent up spHnters 
in the air. Garcilasso was thrown back in the saddle — his 
horse made a wide career, before he could recover, gather up 
the reins, and return to the conflict. They now encountered 
each other with swords. The Moor circled round his opponent, 
as hawk circles whereabout to make a swoop; his Arabian 
steed obeyed his rider, with matchless quickness; at every 
attack of the infidel it seemed as if the Christian knight must 
sink beneath his flashing scimitar. But if Garcilasso were in- 
ferior to him in power, he was superior in agihty : many of his 
blows he parried ; others he received upon his Flemish shield, 
which was proof against the Damascus blade. The blood 



THE CONQUEST OF RAN ADA. 333 

streamed from numerous wounds received by either warrior. 
The Moor, seeing his antagonist exhausted, availed himself of 
his superior force, and, grapphng, endeavored to wrest him 
from his saddle. They both fell to earth ; the Moor placed his 
knee upon the breast of his victim, and, brandishing his dag- 
ger, aimed a blow at his throat. A cry of despair was uttered 
by the Christian wr.rriors, when suddenly they beheld the 
Moor rolling lifeless in the dust. Garcilasso had shortened his 
sword, and, as his adversary raised his arm to strike, had 
pierced him to t]ie heart. ' ' It was a singular and miraculous 
victory," says Fray Antonio Agapida; "but the Christian 
knight was armed by the sacred nature of his cause, and the 
holy virgin gave him strength, like another David, to slay this 
gigantic champion of the Gentiles." 

The laws of chivalry were observed throughout the combat 
—no one interfered on either side. Garcilasso now despoiled 
his adversary; then, rescuing the holy inscription of "Ave 
Maria" from its degrading situation, he elevated it on the 
point of his sword, and bore it off as a signal of triumph, 
amidst the rapturous sliouts of the Christian army. 

The sun had now reached the meridian ; and the hot blocd of 
the Moors was inflamed by its rays, and by the sight of the 
defeat of their champion. Muza ordered two pieces of ord- 
nance to open a fire upon the Christians. A confusion was 
produced in one part of their ranks : Muza called to the chiefs 
of the army, " Let us waste no more time in empty challenges 
let us charge upon the enemy: he who assaidts has always an 
advantage in the combat." So saying, he rushed forward, fol- 
lowed by a large body of horse and foot, and charged so furi- 
ously upon the advance guard of the Christians, that he drove 
it in upon the battalion of the marques of Cadiz. 

The gallant marques now considered himself absolved from 
all further obedience to the queen's commands. He gave the 
signal to attack. "Santiago !" was shouted along the line ; and 
he pressed forward to the encounter, with his battalion of 
twelve hundred lances. The other cavaliers followed his ex- 
ample, and the battle instantly became general. 

When the king and queen beheld the armies thus rushing to 
the combat, they threw themselves on their knees, and im- 
plored the holy vii^gin to protect her faithful warriors. The 
prince and princess, the ladies of the court, and the prelates 
and friars who were present, did the same ; and the effect of 
the prayers of these illustrious and saintly persons, was im- 



334 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA, 

mediately apparent. The fierceness with which the Moors had 
rushed to the attack was suddenly cooled ; they were bold and 
adroit for a skirmish, but unequal to the veteran Spaniards in 
the open field. A panic seized upon the foot-soldiers — they 
turned, and took to flight. Muza and his cavaliers m vain en- 
deavored to rally them. Some took refuge in the mountains ; 
but the greater iDart fled to the city, in such confusion that 
they overturned and trampled upon each other. The Chris- 
tians pursued them to the very gates. Upwards of two thou- 
sand were either killed, wounded, or taken prisoners ; and tho 
two pieces of ordnance were brought off, as trophies of the vic- 
tory. Not a Christian lance but was bathed that day in the 
blood of an infidel.* 

Such was the brief but bloody action, which was known 
among the Clmstian warriors by the name of ''the queen's 
skirmish;' for when the marques of Cadiz waited upon her 
majesty to apologize for breaking her commands, he attri- 
buted the victory entirely to her presence. The queen, how- 
ever, insisted that it was all owing to her troops being led on 
by so valiant a commander. Her majesty had not yet re- 
covered from her agitation at beholding so terrible a scene of 
bloodshed; though certain veterans present pronounced it as 
gay and gentle a sku-mish as they had ever witnessed. 

To commemorate tliis victory, the queen afterwards erected 
a monastery in this village of Zubia, dedicated to St. Fran- 
cisco, which still exists ; and in its garden is a laurel, ]Dlanted 
by the hands of her majesty, t 

* Cura de los Palacios. 

t The house from whence the king and queen contemplated the battle, is hkewise 
to be seen at the present day. It is in the first street to the right, on entering tlie 
village from the vega; and the royal arms are painted on the ceilhigs. It is in- 
habited by a worthy farmer, Francisco Garcia, Avho, in showing the house, refuses 
all compensation, with true Spanish pride; offering, on the conirary, the hospi- 
talities of his mansion to the stranger. His children are versed in the old Spanish 
ballads, about the exploits of Hernando Perez del Pulgar and Garcilasso de la 
Vega. 



THE COjS'QUEST OF GRAiSADA. 335 



CHAPTER XLIX. 

CONFLAGRATION OF THE CHRISTIAN CAMP. 

The ravages of war had as yet spared a little portion of th« 
vega of Granada. A green belt of gardens and orchards still 
flourished round the city, extending along the banks of the 
Xenel and the Darro. They had been the solace and dehght 
of the inhabitants in their happier days, and contributed 
to their sustenance in this tune of scarcity. Ferdinand de- 
termined to make a final and exterminating ravage to the very 
walls of the city, so that there should not remain a single green 
thing for the sustenance of man or beast. The evening of a 
hot July day shone splendidly upon the Chiistian camp, which 
was in a bustle of preparation for the next day's service— for 
desperate resistance Avas expected from the Moors. The camp 
made a glorious appearance in the setting sim. The various 
tents of the royal family and the attendant nobles, were 
adorned with rich hangings, and sumptuous devices, and costly 
furniture ; forming, as it were, a little city of silk and brocade, 
where the piimacles of paviHons of various gay colors, sur- 
mounted with waving standards and fluttering pennons, might 
vie with the domes and minarets of the capital they were be- 
sieging. 

In the midst of this little gaudy metropolis, the lofty tent of 
the queen domineered over the rest like a stately palace. The 
marques of Cadiz had courteously surrendered his own tent to 
the queen : it was the most complete and sumptuous in Chris- 
tendom, and had been carried about with him throughout the 
war. In the centre rose a stately alfaneque or pavilion in ori- 
ental taste, the rich hangings being supported by columns of 
lances and ornamented with martial devices. This central pa- 
vihon, or silken tower, was surrounded by other compartments, 
some of painted linen lined with silk, and aU separated from 
each other by curtains. It was one of those camp palaces 
which are raised and demolished in an instant, Hke the city of 
canvas that surrounds them. 

As the evening advanced, the bustle in the camp subsided. 
Every one sought repose, preparatory to the next day's trial. 
The king retired early, that he might be up with the crowing 



336 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

of the cock, to head the destroying army in person. All stir 
of military preparation was hushed in the royal quarters ; the 
very sound of minstrelsy was mute, and not the tinkling of a 
guitar was to be heard from the tents of the fair ladies of the 
court. 

The queen had retired to the innermost part of her pavilion, 
where she was performing her orisons before a private altar : 
perhaps the peril to which the king might be exposed in the 
next day's foray, inspired her with more than usual devotion. 
While thus at her prayers, she was suddenly aroused by a 
glare of light, and wreaths of suffocating smoke. In an in- 
stant, the whole tent was in a blaze : there was a high gusty 
wind, which whirled the light flames from tent to tent, and 
wrapped the whole in one conflagra-tion. 

Isabella had barely time to save herself by instant flight. 
Her first thought, on being extricated from her tent, was for 
the safety of the king. She rushed to his tent, but the vigilant 
Ferdinand was already at the entrance of it. Starting from 
bed at the first alarm, and fancying it an assault of the enemy, 
he had seized his sword and buckler, and sallied forth un- 
dressed, with his cuirass upon his arm. 

The late gorgeous camp was now a scene of wild confusion. 
The flames kept spreading from one pavilion to another, glar- 
ing upon the rich armor, and golden and silver vessels, which 
seemed melting in the fervent heafc. Many of the soldiers had 
erected booths and bowers of brances, which, being dry, crack- 
led and blazed, and added to the rapid conflagration. The 
ladies of the court fled, shrieking and half -dressed, from their 
tents. There was an alarm of drum and trumpet, and a dis- 
tracted hurry about the camp of men half armed. The prince 
Juan had been snatched out of bed by an attendant, and con- 
veyed to the quarters of the count de Cabra, which were at the 
entrance of the camp. The loyal count immediately summoned 
his people, and those of his cousin Don Alonzo de Montemagor, 
and formed a guard round the tent in which the prince was 
sheltered. 

The idea that this was a stratagem of the Moors, soon sub- 
sided ; but it was feared they might take advantage of it to as= 
sault the camp. The marques of Cadiz, therefore, sallied forth 
with three thousand horse to check any advance from the city. 
As they passed along, the whole camp was a scene of hurry 
and consternation — some hastening to their posts, at the call of 
drum and trumpet ; some attempting to save rich effects and 



TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 337 

glittering armor from the tents, others dragging along terrified 
and restive horses. 

When they emerged from the camp, they found the whole 
firmament illuminated. The flames whirled up in long light 
spires, and the air was filled with sparks and cinders. A 
bright glare was thrown upon the city, reveahng every bat- 
tlement and tower. Turbaned heads were seen gazing from 
every roof, and armor gleamed along the walls ; yet not a sin- 
gle warrior sallied from the gates : the Moors suspected some 
stratagem on the part of the Christians, and kept quietly 
within their walls. By degrees, the flames expired; the city 
faded from sight ; all again became dark and quiet, and the 
marques of Cadiz returned with his cavah'y to the camp. 



CHAPTER L. 

THE LAST RAVAGE BEFORE GRANADA. 

When the day dawned on the Christian camp, nothing re- 
mained of that beautiful assemblage of stately pavilions, but 
heaps of smouldering rubbish, with helms and corselets and 
oljor furniture of war, and masses of melted gold and silver 
glittering among the ashes. The wardrobe of the queen was 
entirely destroyed, and there was an immense loss in plate, 
jewels, costly stuffs, and sumptuous armor of the luxurious 
nobles. The fire at first had been attributed to treachery, but 
on investigation it proved to be entirely accidental. The 
queen, on retiring to her prayers, had ordered her lady in at- 
tendance to remove a light burning near her couch, lest it, 
should prevent her sleeping. Through heedlessness, the taper 
was placed in another part of the tent, near the hangings, 
which being blown against it by a gust of wind, immediately 
took fire. 

The wary Ferdinand knew the sanguine temperament of the 
Moors, and hastened to prevent their deriving confidence from 
the night's disaster. At break of day, the drums and trum- 
pets sounded to arms, and the Christian army issued from 
among the smoking ruins of their camp, in shining squadrons, 
with flaunting banners and bursts of martial melody, as though 
the preceding night had been a time of high festivity, instead 
of terror. 



338 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

The MODI'S had beheld the conflagi-ation with wonder and 
perplexity. When the day broke, and they looked towards 
the Christian camp, they saw nothing but a da,rk sniokmg 
mass. Their scouts came in, with the joyful intelligence that 
the whole camp was a scene of ruin. Scarce had the tidings 
spread throughout the city, when they beheld the Christiam 
army advancing towards their walls. They considered it a 
feint, to cover their desperate situation and prepare for a re- 
treat. Boabdil el Chico had one of his impulses of valor — he 
determined to take the field in person, and to follow up this 
signal blow which Allah had inflicted on the enemy. 

The Christian army approached close to the city, and were 
laying waste the gardens and orchards, when Boabdil sallied 
forth, surrounded by all that was left of the flower and chiv- 
alry of Granada. There is one place where even the coward 
becomes brave — that sacred spot called home. What then 
must have been the valor of the Moors, a people always of 
fiery spirit, when the war was thus brought to their thresholds ! 
They fought among the scenes of their loves and pleasures; 
the scenes of their infancy, and the haunts of their domestic 
life. They fought under the eyes of their wives and children, 
their old men and their maidens, of all that was helpless and 
all that was dear to them ; for all Granada, crowded on tower 
and battlement, watched with trembhng heart the fate of this 
eventful day. 

There was not so much one battle, as a variety of battles ; 
every garden and orchard became a scene of deadly contest ; 
every inch of ground was disputed, with an agony of grief and 
valor, by the Moors ; every inch of ground that the Christians 
advanced, they valiantly maintained ; but never did they ad- 
vance with severer fighting, or gi-eater loss of blood. 

The cavalry of Muza was in every part of the field ; wherever 
it came, it gave fresh ardor to the fight. The Moorish soldier, 
fainting with heat, fatigue, and wounds, was roused to new 
fife at the approach of Muza ; and even he who lay gasping in 
the agonies of death, turned liis face towards him, and faintly 
uttered cheers and blessings as lie passed. 

The Christians had by this time gained possession of various 
towers near the city, from whence they had been annoyed by 
cross-bows and arquebusses. The Moors, scattered in various 
actions, were severely pressed. Boabdil, at the head of the 
cavahers of iiis gLiard, displayed the utmost valor, mingling in 
the fight in various parts of the field, and endeavoring to in- 



TUN CONQUEST OF G RAN AD A. :^30 

spirit the foot-soldiers in the combat. But the Moorish infan- 
try was never to bo depended upon. In the heat of the a^'tion, 
a panic seized upon them; they fled, leaving their sovereign 
exposed with his handful of cavaliers to an overwhehning 
force. Boabdil was on the point of falling into the hands of 
the Christians, when, wheeling round, with his followers, they 
threw the reins on the necks of their fleet steeds, and took 
refuge by dint of hoof within the walls of the city.* 
^ Muza enJeavored to retrieve the fortune of the field. He 
threw hunself before the retreating infantry, calhngupon them 
to turn and fight for their homes, their families, for every 
thing that was sacred and dear to them. It was all in vain : — 
they were totally broken and dismayed, and fled tumultuously 
for the gates. Muza would fain have ker)t the field with his 
cavalry ; but tliis devoted band, having stood the brunt of Avar 
throughout this desperate campaign, was fearfully reduced in 
numbers, and many of the survivors were crippled and enfee- 
bled by their wounds. Slowly and reluctantly Muza retreated 
to the city, his bosom swelling with indignation and despair. 
When he entered the gates, he ordered them to be closed, and 
secured with bolts and bars ; for he refused to place any fiu-- 
ther confidence in the archers and arquebusiers who w-cre sta- 
tioned to defend them, and he vowed never more to sally forth 
with foot-soldiers to the field. 

In the mean time the artillery thimdered from the walls, and 
checked all further advances of the Christians. King Ferdi- 
nand, therefore, called off his troops, and returned in triumph 
to the ruins of his camp, leaving the beautifrd city of Granada 
wrapped in the smoke of her fields and gardens, and surrounded 
by the bodies of her slaughtered children. 

Such was the last sally made by the Ttloors, in defence of 
their favorite city. The French ambassador, who witnessed 
it, was fiUed with wonder, at the prowess, the dexterity, and 
daring of the Moslems. 

In truth, this whole war was an instance, memorable in his- 
tory, of the most persevering resolution. For nearly ten yeai-s 
had the war endured— an almost uninterrupted series of disas- 
ters to the Moorish arms. Their towns had been taken, one 
after another, and their brethren slain or led into captivity. 
Yet they disputed every city and town, and fortress and castle, 
nay every rock itself, as if they had been inspirited by victor- 



I 



* Zurita, lib. 20, c. S>', 



340 TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

ies. Wherever they CQuld plant foot to fight, or find wall or 
cliff from whence to lanch an arrow, they disputed their he- 
loved country ; and now, when their capital was cut off from 
all relief, and had a whole nation thundering at his gates, they 
still maintained defence, as if they hoped some miracle to inter- 
pose in their behalf. Their obstinate resistance (says an an- 
cient chronicler) shows the grief with which the Moors yielded 
up the vega, which was to them a paradise and heaven. Ex- 
erting all the strength of their arms, they embraced, as it were, 
that most beloved soil, from which neither wounds, nor de- 
feat, nor death itself, could part them. They stood firm, bat- 
thng for it with the united force of love and grief, never draw- 
ing back the foot while they had hands to fight, or fortune to 
befriend them.* 



CHAPTER LI. 

BUILDING OF THE CITY OF SANTA FE— DESPAIR OF THE MOORS. 

The Moors now shut themselves up gloomily within their 
walls ; there were no longer any daring salhes from their gates ; 
and even the martial clangor of the drum and trumpet, which 
had continually resounded within that warrior city, was now 
seldom heard from its battlements. For a time, they flattered 
themselves with hopes that the late conflagration of the camj) 
would discourage the besiegers ; that, as m former years, their 
invasion would end with the summer, and that they would 
again withdraw before the autumnal rains. 

The measures of Ferdinand and Isabella soon crushed these 
hopes. They gave orders to build a regular city upon the site 
of their camp, to convince the Moors that the siege was to en- 
dure until the surrender of Granada. Nine of the principal 
cities of Spain were charged with the stupendous undertaking; 
and they emulated each other, with a zeal worthy of the cause. 
"It verily seems," says Fray Antonio Agapida, "as though 
some miracle operated to aid this pious work, so rapidly did 
arise a formidable city, with solid edifices, and powerful walls, 
and mighty towers, where lately had been seen nothing but 

* Abarca, Reyes tie Aragon, R. 30, c. 3. 



THE CONQUEST OF OR AN AD A. 341 

tents and light pavilions. The city was traversed by two prin- 
cipal streets in form of a cross, terminating in four gates facing 
the four winds; and in the centre was a vast square, where tlie 
whole army might be assembled. To this city it was proposed 
to give the name of Isabella, so dear to the army and the na- 
tion; " but that pious princess," adds Antonio Agapida, " call 
ing to mind the holy cause in which it was erected, gave it the 
name of Santa Fe, (or the City of the Holy Faith ;) and it re- 
mains to this day, a monument of the piety and glory of the 
Catholic sovereigns." 

Hither the merchants soon resorted, from all points. Long 
trains of mules were seen every day entering and departing 
from its gates; the streets were crowded with magazines, 
filled with all kinds of costly and luxurious merchandise; a 
scene of bustling commerce and prosperity took place, while 
unhappy Granada remained shut up and desolute. 

In the mean time, the besieged city began to suffer the dis- 
tress of famine. Its supplies were all cut off; a cavalgada of 
flocks and herds, and mules laden with money, coming to the 
rehef of the city from the mountains of the Alpuxarras, was 
taken by the marques of Cadiz, and led in triumph to the 
camp, in sight of the suffering Moors. Autumn arrived ; but 
the harvests had been swept from tlie face of the country; 
a rigorous winter was approaching, and the city was almost 
destitute of provisions. The people sank into deep despon- 
dency. They called to mind all that had been predicted by 
astrologers at the birth of their ill-starred sovereign, and all 
that had been foretold of the fate of Granada at the time of 
the capture of Zahara. 

Boabdilwas alarmed by the gathering dangers from mthout, 
and by the clamors of his starving people. He summoned a 
council, composed of the principal officers of the army, the 
alcaydes of the fortresses, the xequis or sages of the city, and 
the alfaquis or doctors of the faith. They assembled in the 
great hall of audience of the Alhambra, and despair was 
pamted in their countenances. Boabdil demanded of them, 
what was to be done in their present extremity; and their 
answer was, "Surrender." The venerable Abul Cazin Abdel 
t Mehc, governor of the city, represented its unhappy state: 
■ " Our granaries are nearly exhausted, and no further supplies 
are to be expected. The provender for the war-horses is re- 
quired as sustenance for the soldiery ; the very horses them- 
selves arc killed for food ; of seven thousand steeds which once 



342 THE CONQUEST OF ORANADA. 

could be sent into the field, three hundred only remain. Out* 
city contains two hundred thousand inhabitants, old and 
young, with each a mouth that calls piteously for bread." 

The xequis and principal citizens declared that the people 
could no longer sustain the labors and suif erings of a defence : 
"And of what avail is our defence," said they, "when the 
enemy is determined to persist in the siege?— what alternative 
remains, but to surrender or to die?" 

The heart of Boabdil was touched by this appeal, and he 
maintained a gloomy silence. He had cherished some faint 
hope of relief from the soldan of Egypt or the Barbary pow- 
ers : but it was now at an end ; even if such assistance were to 
be sent, he had no longer a sea-port where it might debark. 
The counsellors saw that the resolution of the king was shaken, 
and they united theu^ voices in urging him to capitulate. 

The valiant Muza alone arose in opposition: "It is yet too 
early," said he, "to talk of a surrender. Our means are not 
exhausted; we have yet one source of strength remaining, 
terrible in its effects, and which often has achieved the most 
signal victories— it is our despair. Let us rouse the mass of 
the people — let us put weapons in their hands— let us fight the 
enemy to the very utmost, until we rush upon the points of 
their lances. I am ready to lead the way into the thickest of 
their squadrons; and much rather would I be numbered 
among those who fell in the defence of Granada, than of those 
who survived to capitulate for her surrender !" 

The words of Muza were without effect, for they were ad- 
dressed to broken-spuited and heartless men, or men, perhaps, 
to whom sad experience had taught discretion. They wore ar- 
rived at that state of public depression, vv^hen heroes and hero- 
|ism are no longer regarded, and when old men and their 
Icounscls rise into importance. Boabdil el Chico yielded to the 
Treneral voice; it was determined to capitulate with the Chris- 
tian sovereigns; and the venerable Abul Cazim Abdul Melic 
was sent forth to the camp, empowered to treat for terms. 



THE CONQUEST OF (JliANADA, 34:3 



CHAPTER LII. 

CAPITULATION OF GRANADA. 

The old governor, Abul Cazim Abdel Melic, was received 
with great distinction by Ferdinand and Isabella, who ap- 
pointed Gonsalvo of Cordova and Fernando de Zafra, secre- 
tary to the king, to confer with him. All Granada awaited, 
in trembling anxiety, the result of his negotiations. After re- 
peated conferences, he at length returned with the ultimate 
terms of the Catholic sovereigns. They agreed to suspend all 
attack for seventy days, at the end of which time, if no succor 
should arrive to the Moorish king, the city of Granada was to 
be surrendered. 

All Christian captives should be liberated, without ransom. 

Boabdil and his principal cavaliers should take an oath of 
fealty to the Castilian crown, and certain valuable territories 
in the Alpuxarra mountains should be assignod to the Moorish 
monarch for his maintenance. 

The Moors of Granada should become subjects of the Span- 
ish sovereigns, retaining their possessions, their arms and 
horses, and yielding up nothing but their artillery. They 
should be protected in the exercise of their religion, and gov- 
erned by their own laws, administered by cadis of their own 
faith, under governors appointed by the sovereigns. They 
should be exempted from tribute for three years, after which 
term they should pay the same that they had been accustomed 
to render to their native monarchs. 

Those who chose to depart for Africa within three years, 
should be provided with a passage for themselves and their 
effects, free of charge, from whatever port they should prefer. 

For the fulfilment of these articles, four hundred hostages 
from the principal families were required, previous to the sur- 
render, to be subsequently restored. The son of the king of 
Granada, and all other hostages in possession of the Castilian 
sovereigns, were to be restored at the same tune. 

Such were the conditions that the wazir Abul Cazim laid 
ibcfore the council of Granada, as the best that could be ob- 
tained from the besieging foe. 

When the members of the council found that the awful mo- 



344 THE CONQUEST OE GRANADA. . 

ment had arrived when they were to sign and seal the perdi- 
tion of their empire, and blot themselves out as a nation, all 
firmness deserted them, and many gave way to tears. Muza 
alone retained an unaltered mien: "Leave, seniors," cried he, 
' ' this idle lamentation to helpless women and children : we are 
men — we have hearts, not to shed tender tears, but drops of 
blood. I see the spirit of the people so cast down, that it is 
impossible to save the kingdom. Yet there still remains an 
alternative for noble minds — a glorious death ! Let us die de- 
fending our hberty, and avenging the woes of Granada. Our 
mother earth will receive her children into her bosom, safe 
from the chains and opiDressions of the conqueror ; or, should 
any fail a sepulchre to hide his remains, he will not want a sky 
to cover him. Allah forbid, it should be said the nobles of 
Granada feared to die in her defence !" 

Muza ceased to speak, and a dead silence reigned in the 
assembly. Boabdil el Chico looked anxiously round, and 
scanned every face ; but he read in them all the anxiety of care- 
worn men, in whose hearts enthusiasm was dead, and who 
had grown callous to every chivalrous appeal. "Allah 
Acbar ! God is great!" exclaimed he; "there is no God but God, 
and Mahomet is his prophet ! It is in vain to struggle against 
the mil of Heaven. Too surely was it written in the book of 
fate, that I should be unfortunate, and the kingdom expire 
under my rule," 

"Allah Acbar! God is great!" echoed the viziers and alfa- 
quis ; ' ' the will of God be done !" So they all accorded with the 
king, that these evils were preordaind ; that it was hopeless to 
contend with them ; and that the terms offered by the Castihan 
monarchs were as favorable as could be expected. 
' When Muza saw that they were about to sign the treaty of 
surrender, he rose in violent indignation: "Do not deceive 
yourselves," cried he, "nor think the Christains will be faithful 
to their promises, or their king as magnanimous in conquest as 
he has been victorious in war. Death is the least we have to 
fear. It is the plundering and sacking of our city, the pro- 
fanation of our mosques, the ruin of our homes, the violation 
of our wives and daughters — cruel oppression, bigoted intoler- 
ance, whips and chains, the dungeon, the fagot, and the stake 
'—such are the miseries and indignities we shall see and suffer; 
at least, those groveling souls will see them, who now shrink 
from an honorable death. For my part, by Allah, I will never 
witness them!" 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 345 

With these words he left the council-chamber, and strode 
gloomily through the Court of Lions and the outer halls of the 
Alhambra, without deigning to speak to the obsequious cour- 
tiers who attended in them. He repaired to his dwelhng, 
armed himself at all points, mounted his favorite war-horse, 
and, and issuing forth from the city by the gate of Elvira, Avas 
never seen or head of more.* 

Such is the account given by Ai-abian historians, of the exit 
of Muza ben Abel Gazan; but the venerable Fray Antonio 
Agapida endeavors to clear up the mystery of his fate. That 
very evenmg, a small party of Andalusian cavaliers, some- 
what more than half a score of lances, were riding along 
the banks of the Xenel, where it winds through the vega. 
They beheld in the twilight a Moorish warrior approaching, 
closely locked up from head to foot in proof. His visor was 
closed, his lance in rest, his powerful charger barbed like him- 
self in steel. The Christians were lightly armed, with corselet, 
helm, and target ; for, during the truce, they apprehended no at- 
tack. Seeing, however, the unknown warrior approach in this 
hostile guise, they challenged him to stand and declare liimself . 

The Moslem answered not, but, charging into the midst of 
them, transfixed one knight with his lance, and bore him out 
of his saddle to the earth. WheeHng round, he attacked the 
rest with his scimitar. His blows were furious and deadly ; he 
seemed regardless what wounds he received, so he could but 
slay. He was evidently fighting, not for glory, but revenge- 
eager to inflict death, but careless of surviving to enjoy 
victory. Near one-half of the fell cavaliers beneath liis sword, 
before he received a dangerous wound, so completely was he 
cased in armor of proof. At length he was desperately 
wounded, and his steed, being pierced by a lance, sank to the 
ground. The Christains, admiring the valor of the Moor, would 
have spared his life : but he continued to fi^lit upon his knees, 
brandishing a keen dagger of Fez. Finding at length he could 
no longer battle, and determined not to be taken prisoner, he 
threw himself, vdth. an expiring exertion, into the Xenel, and 
his aiTnor sank liim to the bottom of the stream. 

This unknown v/arrior the venerable Agapida pronounces to 
have been Muza ben Abel Gazan, and says his horse was re- 
cognised by certain converted Moors of the Christian camp: 
the fact, however, has always remained in doubt. 

* Conde. part 4. 



346 ■ TUE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 



CHAPTER LIII. 

COMMOTIONS IN GRANADA. 

The capitulation for the surrender of Granada was signed on 
the 25th of November, 1481, and produced a sudden cessation of 
those hostihties which had raged for so many years. Christian 
and Moor might now be seen minghng courteously on the 
banks of the Xenel and the Darro, where to have met a few 
days previous would have produced a scene of sanguinary con- 
test. Still, as the Moors might be suddenly aroused to defence, 
if, within the allotted term of seventy days, succors should 
arrive from abroad ; and as they w^ere at all times a rash, in- 
flammable people, the wary Ferdinand maintained a vigilant 
watch upon the city, and permitted no supplies of any kind to 
enter. His garrisons in the sea-ports, and his cruisers in the 
Straits of G-ibraltar, were ordered hkewise to guard against 
any rehef from the grand soidan of Egypt, or the princes of 
Barbary. There was no need of such precautions. Those 
powers were either too much engrossed by their own wars, or 
too much daunted by the success of the Spanish arms, to in- 
terfere in a desperate cause; and the unfortunate Moors of 
Granada were abandoned to their fate. 

The month of December had nearly passed away: the fa- 
mine became extreme, and there was no hope of any favorable 
even twithin the terms pecified in the capitulation. Boabdil 
saw, that to hold out to the end of the allotted time would but 
be to protract the miseries of his people. With the consent 
of his council, he determined to surrender the city on the sixth 
of January. On the 30th of December, he sent his grand vizier 
Yusef Aben Comixa, with the four hundred hostages, to king 
Ferdinand, to make known his intention ; bearing him, at the 
same time, a present of a magnificent scimitar, and two Ara- 
bian steeds superbly caparisoned. 

The unfortunate Boabdil was doomed to meet with trouble, 
to the end of his career. The very next day, the santon or 
dervise Hamet Aben Zarrax, the same who had uttered 
prophecies and excited commotions on former occasions, sud- 
denly made his appearance. Whence he came, no one knew; 
it was rumored that he had been in the mountains of the 



TIIK CONQUEST OF QRANADA. 347 

Alpuxarras, and on the coast of Barbary, endeavoring to rouse 
the Moslems to the rehef of Granada. He was reduced to a 
skeleton; his eyes glowed like coals in their sockets, and his 
speech was httle better than frantic raving. He harangued 
the populace, in the streets and squares ; inveighed against the 
capitulation, denounced the king and nobles as Moslems only 
in name, and called upon the people to sally forth against the 
unbehevers, for that Allah had decreed them a signal victory. 

Upwards of tt\^enty thousand of the populace seized their 
arms, and paraded the streets with shouts and outcries. The 
shops and houses were shut up; the king himself did not dare 
to venture forth, but remained a kind of prisoner in the Al- 
hambra. 

The turbulent multitude continued roaming and shouting 
and howling about the city, during the day and a part of the 
night. Hunger, and a wintry tempest, tamed their frenzy; 
and when morning came, the enthusiast who had led them on 
had disappeared. Whether he had been disposed of by the 
emissaries of the king, or by the leading men of the city, is not 
known: his disappearance remains a mystery.* 

The Moorish king now issued from the Alhambra, attended 
by his principal nobles, and harangued the populace. He set 
forth the necessity of complying with the capitulation, from 
the famine that reigned in the city, the futility of defence, and 
from the hostages having already been delivered into the hands 
of the besiegers. 

In the dejection of his spirits, the unfortunate Boabdil attrib- 
uted to himself the miseries of the country. ' ' It was my crime 
in ascending the throne in rebellion against my father, " said 
he, mournfully, "which has brought these woes upon the king- 
dom; but Allah has grievously visited my sins upon my head. 
For your sake, my people, I have now made this treaty, to 
protect you from the sword, your little ones from famine, your 
wives and daughters from the outrages of war; and to secure 
you in the enjoyment of your properties, your liberties, your 
laws, and your religion, under a sovereign of happier destinies 
than the ill-starred Boabdil." 

The volatile population were touched by the humanity of 
their sovereign— they agreed to adhere to the capitulation, anc^ 
there was even a famt shout of " Long live Boabdil the unfor- 



Mariana. 



348 TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

tunate !" and they all returned to their homes in perfect tran- 
quillity. 

Boabdil immediately sent missives to king Ferdinand, ap- 
prizing liim of these events, and of his fears lest further delay 
should produce new tumults. He proposed, therefore, to sur- 
render the city on the following day. The Castilian sovereigns 
assented, with great satisfaction ; and preparations were made 
iin city and camp for this great event, that was to seal the fate 
Granada. 

It was a night of doleful lamentings, within the walls of the 
Alhambra; for the household of Boabdil were preparing to 
take a last farewell of that dehghtful abode. All the royal 
treasiu-es, and the most precious effects of the Alhambra, were 
hastily packed upon mules; the beautiful apartments were 
despoiled, with tears and waiHngs, by their own inhabitants. 
Before the dawn of day, a mournful cavalcade moved obscurely 
out of a postern-gate of the Alhambra, and departed through 
one of the most retired quarters of the city. It was composed 
of the family of the unfortunate Boabdil, which he sent off 
thus privately, that they might not be exposed to the eyes of 
scoffers, or the exultation of the enemy. The mother of Bo- 
abdil, the sultana Ayxa la Horra, rode on in silence, with de- 
jected yet dignified demeanor ; but his wife Zorayma, and all 
the females of his household, gave way to loud lamentations, 
as they looked back upon their favorite abode, now a mass of 
gloomy towers behind them. They were attended by the an- 
cient domestics of the household, and by a small guard of 
veteran Moors, loyally attached to the fallen monarch, and who 
would have sold their lives dearly in defence of his family. 
The city was yet bm-ied in sleep, as they passed through its 
silent streets. The guards at the gate shed tears, as they 
opened it for their departure. They paused not, but proceeded 
along the banks of the Xenel on the road that leads to the Al- 
puxarras, until they arrived at a hamlet at some distance from 
the city, where they halted, and waited until they should be 
joined by king Boabdil. 



TUE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 340 



CHAPTER LIV. 

SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 

The sun had scarcely begun to shed his beams upon the sum- 
mits of the snowy mountains which rise above Granada, when 
the Christian camp was in motion. A detachment of horse and 
foot, led by distinguished cavahers, and accompanied by Her- 
nando de Talavcra, bishop of Avila, proceeded to take posses- 
sion of the Alhambra and the towers. It had been stipulated 
in the capitulation, that the detachment sent for this purpose 
should not enter by the streets of the city ; a road had there- 
fore been opened, outside of the walls, leading by the Puerta 
de los Milinos, or the Gate of the Mills, to the summit of the 
Hill of Martyrs, and across the hill to a postern-gate of the 
Alhambra. 

When the detachment arrived at the summit of the hill, the 
Moorish king came forth from the gate, attended by a handful 
of cavahers, leaving his vizier Yusef Abed Comixa to deliver 
up the palace. " Go, senior," said he to the commander of the 
detachment, " go and take possession of those fortresses, which 
Allah has bestowed upon your powerful sovereigns, in punish- 
ment of the sins of the Moors. " He said no more, but passed 
mournfully on, along the same road by which the Spanish cav- 
aliers had come descending to the vega, to meet the Cathohc 
sovereigns. The troops entered the Alhambra, the gates of 
which were wide open, and all its splendid courts and halls 
silent and deserted. 

In the mean time, the Christian court and aiTQy poured out 
of the city of Santa Fe, and advanced across the vega. The 
king and queen, with the prmce and princess, and the digni- 
taries and ladies of the court, took the lead, accompanied by 
the different orders of monks and friars, and surrounded by 
the royal guards splendidly arrayed. Tlie procession moved 
slowly forward, and paused at the village of Armilla, at the 
distance of half a league from the city. 

The sovereigns waited here with impatience, their eyes fixed 
on the lofty tower of the Alhambra, watching for the appointed 
signal of possession. The time that had elapsed since the de- 
parture of the detachment seemed to them more than necessary 



350 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

for the purpose, and the anxious mind of Ferdinand began to 
entertain doubts of some commotion in the city. At length 
they saw the silver cross, the great standard of this crusade, 
elevated on the Torre de la Vala, or Great Watch-Tower, and 
sparkling in the sunbeams. This was done by Hernando de 
Talavera, bishop of Avila. Beside it was planted the pennon of 
the glorious apostle St. James, and a great shout of ' ' Santiago ! 
Santiago !" rose throughout the army. Lastly was reared the 
royal standard by the king of arms, with the shout of "Castile ! 
Castile ! For king Ferdinand and queen Isabella !" The words 
were echoed by the whole army, with acclamations that re- 
sounded across the vega. At sight of these signals of posses- 
sion, the sovereigns sank upon their knees, giving thanks to 
God for this great triumph ; the whole assembled host followed 
their example, and the choristers of the royal chapel broke 
forth into the solemn anthem of " Te cleum laiidamusy 

The procession now resumed its march with joyful alacrity, 
to the sound of triumphant music, until they came to a small 
mosque, near the banks of the Xenel, and not far from the 
foot of the Hill of Martyrs, which edifice remains to the 
present day, consecrated as the hermitage of St. Sebastian. 
Here the sovereigns were met by the unfortunate Boabdil, 
accompanied by about fifty cavaliers and domestics. As he 
drew near, he would have dismounted in token of homage, 
but Ferdinand prevented him. He then proffered to kiss the 
king's hand, but this sign of vassalage was likewise declined ; 
whei^eupon, not to be outdone in magnanimity, he leaned 
forward and kissed the right arm of Ferdinand. Queen 
Isabella also refused to receive this ceremonial of homage, 
and, to console him under his adversity, delivered to him his 
son, who had remained as hostage ever since Boabdil's libera- 
tion from captivity. The Moorish monarch pressed his child 
to his bosom with tender emotion, and they seemed mutually 
endeared to each other by their misfortunes.* 

He then delivered the keys of the city to king Ferdinand, 
with an air of mingled melancholy and resignation: "These 
keys," said he, "are the last rehcs of the Arabian empire in 
Spain : tliine, oh king, are our trophies, our kingdom, and our 
person. Such is the will of God! Eeceive them with the 
clemency thou hast promised, and which we look for at thy 
hands." t 

*Zurita, Anales de Aragon. t Abarca, Anales de Aragon, Eey 30, c. 3. 



THE CONQUEST OF QRANADA. 351 

EIk^ Ferdinand restrained his exultation into an air of 
serene magnanimity. "Doubt not our promises," replied he, 
"nor tliat thou shalt regain from our friendship the pros- 
perity of which the fortune of war has deprived thee. " 

On receiving the keys, king Ferdinand handed them to the 
queen; she in her turn presented them to her son prince Juan, 
who delivered them to the count de Tendilla, that brave and 
loyal cavalier being appointed alcayde of the city, and 
captain-general of the kingdom of Granada. 

Having surrendered the last symbol of power, the unfortu- 
nate Boabdil continued on towards the Alpuxarras, that he 
might not behold the entrance of the Christians into his 
capital. His devoted band of cavalie**s followed him in 
gloomy silence ; but heavy sighs burst from their bosoms, as 
shouts of joy and strains of triumphant music were borne on 
the breeze from the victorious army. 

Having rejoined his family, Boabdd set forward with a 
heavy heart for his allotted residence in the valley of Pur- 
chena. i^t two leagues' distance, the cavalcade, winding into 
the skirts of the Alpuxarras, ascended an eminence command- 
ing the last view of Granada. As they arrived at this spot, 
the Mooi-s paused involuntarily, to take a farewell gaze at 
their beloved city, which a few steps more would shut from 
their sight for ever. Never had it appeared so lovely in their 
eyes. The sunshine, so bright in that transparent climate, lit 
up each tower and minaret, and rested gloriously upon the 
crowning battlements of the Alhambra; while the vega spread 
its enamelled bosom of verdure below, glistening \vith the 
silver windings of the Xenel. The Moorish cavaliers gazed 
with a silent agony of tenderness and gi-ief upon that delicious 
abode, the scene of their loves and pleasures. While they yet 
looked, a light cloud of smoke burst forth from the citadel, 
and presently a peal of artillery, faintly heard, told that the 
city was taken possession of, and the throne of the Moslem 
kings was lost for ever. The heart of BoabdO, softened by 
misfortunes and overcharged with grief, could no longer 
contain itself: " Allah Acbar! God is great!" said he; but the 
words of resignation died upon his hps, and he burst into a 
flood of tears. 

His mother, the intrepid sultana Ayxa la Horra, was indig- 
nant afc his weakness: " You do well," said she, " to weep like 
a woman, for what you failed to defend like a man !" 

The vizier Aben Comixa endeavored to console his royal 



352 THE CONQUEST OF OR AN AD A. 

master. "Consider, sire," said he, "that the most signal 
misf orlrunes often render men as renowned as the most pros- 
perous achievements, provided they sustain them with mag- 
nanimity." 

The unhappy monarch, however, was not to be consoled; 
his tears continued to flow. "Allah Acbar!" exclaimed he; 
" when did misfortunes ever equal mine?" 

From this circumstance, the hill, which is not far from the 
Padul, took the name of Feg Allah Acbar; but the point of 
view commanding the last prospect of Granada, is known 
among Spaniards by the name of El ultimo suspiro del Moro; 
or, "The last sigh of the Moor." 



CHAPTER LV. 



HOW THE CASTILIAN SOVEREIGNS TOOK POSSESSION OF GRA- 
NADA. 

When the Castilian sovereigns had received the keys of 
Granada from the hands of Boabdil el Chico, the royal army 
resumed its triiunphant march. As it approached the gates 
of the city, in all the pomp of courtly and chivalrous array, 
a procession of a different kind came forth to meet it. This 
was composed of more than five hundred Christian captives, 
many of whom had languished for years in Moorish dungeons. 
Pale and emaciated, they came clanking their chains in 
triumph, and shedding tears of joy. They were received with 
tenderness by the sovereigns. The king hailed them as good 
Spaniards, as men loyal and brave, as martyrs to the holy 
cause; the queen distributed liberal relief among them with 
her own hands, and they passed on before the squadrons of 
the army, singing hymns of jubilee.* 

The sovereigns did not enter the city on this day of its 
surrender, but waited until it should be fully occupied by 
their troops, and public tranquillity insured. The marques de 
Villena and the count de Tendilla, with three thousand 
cavalry and as many infantry, marched in and took possess- 
ion, accompanied by the proselyte prince Cidi Yahye, now 
known by the Christian appellation of Don Pedro de Granada, 
who was appointed chief alguazil of the city, and had charge 

* Abarca, lib. sup. Zurita, &c. 



THE CONQUlL\ST OF GliANADA. 355 

of the Moori&h inhabitants, and by his son the late prince 
Alnayar, now Don Alonzo do Oranada, who was appointed 
admiral oi the fleets. In a httle while, every battleinent 
glistened with Christian helms and lances, the standard of the 
faith and of the realm floated from every tower, and the 
thmidering salvoes of the ordnance told that the subjugation 
of the city was complete. 

The grandees and cavaliers now knelt and kissed the hands 
of the king and queen and the prince Juan, and congratulated 
them on the acquisition of so great a kingdom ; after which, 
the royal procession returned in state to Santa Fe. 

It was on the sixth of January, the day of kings and 
festival of the Epiphany, that the sovereigns made their 
triumphal entry. The king and queen (says the vv^orthy Fray 
Antonio Agapida) looked, on this occasion, asc more than 
mortal ; the venerable ecclesiastics, to whose advice and zeal 
this glorious conquest ought in a great measure to be attribu- 
ted, moved along with hearts swelling with holy exultation, 
but with chastened and downcast looks of edifying humility ; 
while the hardy warriors, in tossing plumes and shining steel, 
seemed elevated with a stern joy, at finding themselves in 
possession of this object of so many toils and perils. As the 
streets resounded with the tramp of steed and swelling peals 
of music, the Moors buried themselves in the deepest recesses 
of their dwellmgs. There they bewailed in secret the fallen 
glory of their race, but suppressed their groans, lest they 
should be heard by their enemies and increase their triumph. 

The royal procession advanced to the principal moscjue, 
which had been consecrated as a cathedral. Here the sov- 
ereigns offered up prayers and thanksgivings, and the choir. 
ot the royal chapel chanted a triumphant anthem, in whicll 
ihey were joined by all the courtiers and cavaliers. Nothing ^ 
(says Fray Antonio Agapida) could exceed the thankfulness to 
God of the pious king Ferdinand, for having enabled him to 
eradicate from Spain the empire and name of that accursed 
heathen race, and for the elevation of the cross in that city 
wherein the impious doctrines of Mahomet had so long been 
cherished. In the fervor of Ms spirit, he supplicated from 
Heaven a continuance of its grace, and that this glorious 
triumph might be perpetuated.* The prayer of the pious 

* The words of Fray Antonio Af^apida are little more than an echo of those of 
Ha' worthy Jesuit father Mariana. (L. 25. c. 18.) 



354 THE COjS'QUEST OF GllANADA. 

monarch was responded by the people, and even his enemies 
were for once convinced of his sincerity. 

When the rehgious ceremonies were concluded, the court 
ascended to the stately palace of the Alhambra, and entered 
by the great gate of Justice. The halls lately occupied by 
turbaned mfidels now rustled with stately dames and 
Christian courtiers, who wandered with eager curiosity over 
this far-famed palace, admh-ing its verdant courts and gush- 
ing fountains, its halls decorated with elegant arabesques and 
storied with inscriptions, and the splendor of its gilded and 
brilliantly pamted ceilmgs. 

It had been a last request of the unfortunate Boabdil, and 
one which showed how deeply he felt the transition of his 
fate, that no person might be permitted to enter or depart by 
the gate of the Alhambra, through which he had sallied forth 
\,o surrender liis capital. His request was granted ; the portal 
was closed up, and remains so to the present day — a mute 
memorial of that event.* 

The Spanish sovereigns fixed then' throne ia the presence- 
chamber of the palace, so long the seat of Moorish royalty. 
Hither the principal inhabitants of Granada repaired, to pay 
them homage and kiss their hands in token of vassalage ; and 
their example was followed by deputies from all the towns 
and fortresses of the Alpuxarras, which had not hitherto 
submitted. 

Tlius terminated the war of Granada, after ten years of 
incessant fighting; equalling (says Fray Antonio Agapida) 
the far-famed siege of Troy in duration, and ending, like that, 
in the capture of the city. Thus ended also the dominion of 



* Garibay, Compend. Hist. lib. 40. c. 42. The existence of this gateway, and the 
story connected mth it, are perhaps known to few; but were identified, in the 
researches made to verify this history. The gateway is at the bottom of the great 
tower, at some distance from the main body of the Alhambra. The tower has been 
rent and ruined by gunpowder, at the time when the fortress was evacuated by th3 
French. Great masses lie around, half covered by vines and fig-trees. A poor 
man, by the name of Matteo Ximenes, who lives in one of the halls among the 
ruins of the Alhambra, where his family has resided for many generations, pointed 
out the gateway, still closed up with stones. He remembered to have heard hig 
father aad grandfather say, that it had always been stopped up, and that out of it 
king Boabdil had gone when he surrendered Granada. The route of the unfortu- 
nate king may be traced from thence across the garden of the convent of Los 
Martyros, and dowm a ravine beyond, through a street of gipsy caves and hovels, 
by the gaie of Los Molinos, and so on to the Hermitage of St. Sebastian. None but 
an antiquarian, however, vdll be able to trace it, unless aided by the humble 
historian of the place, Matteo Ximenes. 



THE COIi QUEST OF Q RAN AD A. 355 

the Moors in Spain, having endured seven hundred and 
seventy-eight years, from the memorable defeat of Roderick, 
the last of the Goths, on the banks of the Guadalete. The 
authentic Agapida is uncommonly particular in fixing the 
epoch of this event. This great triumph of our holy Catholic 
faith, according to his comi:)utation, took place in the begin- 
ning of January, in the year of our Lord 1492, being 3C55 
years from the population of Spain by the patriarch Tubal ; 
3797 from the general deluge ; 5453 from the creation of the 
world, according to Hebrew calculation; and in the month 
Rabic, in the eight hundred and ninty-seventh year of the 
Hegira, or flight of Mahomet; whom may God confound 1 
saith the pious Agaj^ida. 



APPENDIX. 

FATE OF BOABDIL EL CHICO. 

The Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada is finished ; 
but the reader may be desirous of knowing the subsequent 
fortunes of some of the principal personages. The unfortu- 
nate Boabdil retired to the valley of Purchena, where a small 
but fertile territory had been allotted him, comprising several 
towns, with all their rights and revenues. Great estates had 
likewise been bestowed on his vizier Yusef Aben Comixa and 
his valiant relation and friend Yusef Venegas, both of whom 
resided near him. Were it in the heart of man in the enjoy- 
ment of present competence to forget past splendor, Boabdil 
might at length have been happy. Dwelling in the bosom of 
a dehghtful valley, surrounded by obedient vassals, devoted 
friends, and a loving family, he might have looked back upon 
his past career as upon a troubled and terrific dream, and 
might have thanked his stars that he had at length awaked to 
sweet and tranquil security. But the dethroned prmce could 
never forget that he had once been a monarch; and the 
rtmembrance of the regal splendors of Granada, made all 
pj esent comforts contemiDtible in his eyes. No exertions were 
spared by Ferdinand and Isabella to induce him to embrace 
the Catholic rehgion ; but he remained true to the faith of his 
fathers, and it added not a little to his humiliation, to Uve a 
Vassal under Christian sovereigns. 



356 ^'^^^' COK QUEST OF GRANADA. 

It is probable that his residence in the kingdon was equally 
irksome to the politic Ferdinand, who could not feel perfectly* 
secure in his newly conquered territories, while there was one 
within their bounds who might revive pretensions to the 
throne. A private bargain was therefore made, in the yeai 
1496, between Ferdinand and Yusef Aben Comixa, in which 
the latter, as vizier of Boabdil, undertook to dispose of his 
master's scanty territory, for eighty thousand ducats of gold. 
This, it is affirmed, was done without the consent or 
knowledge of Boabdil; but the vizier probably thought he 
was acting for the best. 

The shrewd Ferdinand does not appear to have made any 
question about the right of the vizier to make the sale, but 
paid the money with secret exultation. Yusef Aben Comixa 
loaded the treasure upon mules, and departed joyfully for the 
Alpuxarras. He spread the money in triumph before Boadbil : 
" Senior," said he, "I have observed that as long as you live 
here, you are exposed to constant peril. The Moors are rash 
and irritable; they may make some sudden insurrection, 
elevate your standard as a pretext, and thus overwhelm you 
and your friends with utter ruin. I have observed also that 
you pine away with grief, being continually reminded in this 
country that you were onc^ its sovereign, but never more 
must hope to reign. I have put an end to these ev^ils. Your 
territory is sold — behold the price of it. With this gold you 
may buy far greater possessions in Africa, where you may 
live in honor and security." 

When Boabdil heard these words, he burst into a sudden 
transport of rage, and, drawing his scimitar, would have sacri- 
ficed the officious Yusef on the spot, had not the attendants 
interfered, and hurried the vizier from his presence. 

Boabdil was not of a vindictive spirit, and his anger soon 
passed away. He saw that the evil was done, and he knew 
the spirit of the politic Ferdinand too well to hope that he 
would retract the bargain. Gathering together the money, 
therefore, and all his jewels and precious effects, he departed 
with his family and household for a port where a vessel had 
been carefully provided by the Castilian king to transport 
them to Africa. 

A crowd of his former subjects witnessed his embarkation. 
As the sails were unfurled and swelled to the breeze, and the 
vessel parted from the land, the spectators would fain have 
given him a parting cheering ; but the humbled state of their 
once proud sovereign forced itself upon their minds, and the 



Tin: COAQUJCST OF GRANADA. 3^7 

ominous surname of his youth rose involuntarily to their 
tongues: "Farewell, Boabdil! Allah preserve thee, El Zogoy- 
biP'' burst spontaneously ii\m\ their lips. The unlucky appel- 
lation sank into the heart of the expatriated monarch, and 
tears dimmed his eyes as the snowy summits of the mountains 
of Granada gradually faded from his view. 

He was received with welcome at the court of his relation, 
Muley Ahmed, King of Fez, and resided for many years in his 
territories. How he passed his life, whether repining or re- 
signed, history does not mention. The last we find recorded 
of him is in the year 1536, thirty -four years after the surrender 
of Granada, when he followed the King of Fez to the field, to 
quell the rebelhon of two brothers named Xerifes. The armies 
came in sight of each other, on the banks of the Guadiswed, at 
the ford of Bacuba. The river was deep, the banks were high 
and broken; for three days the armies remained firing at each 
other across the stream, neither venturing to attempt the dan- 
gerous ford. 

At length the King of Fez divided his army into three bat- 
talions ; the first led on by his son, and by Boabdil el Chico. 
They boldly dashed across the ford, scrambled up the opposite 
bank, and attempted to keep the enemy employed until the 
other battalions should have time to cross. The rebel army, 
however, attacked them with such fury, that the son of the 
King of Fez and several of the bravest alcaydes, were slain 
upon the spot; multitudes were driven back into the river, 
which was already crowded with passing troops. A dreadful 
confusion took place ; the horse trampled upon the foot ; the 
enemy pressed on them with fearful slaughter; those wbc> 
escaped the sword perished by the stream; the river wns 
choked by the dead bodies of men and horses, and by the scat- 
tered baggage of the army. In this scene of horrible carnage 
fell Boabdil, truly called El Zogoybi, or the unlucky ; an in- 
stance, says the ancient chronicler, of the scornful caprice of 
fortune, dying in defence of ths kingdom of another, after 
wanting spirit to die in defence of his own.* 

* Marmol, Descrip. de Africa, p. 1, 1. 2, c. 40. Idem, Hist. Reb. de los Moros, lib. 
1, c. 21. 

Note.— A portrait of Boabdil el Chico is to be veen in the picture-gallery of tlie 
I Generaliffe. He is represented with a mild, handsome face, a fair complexion, ani 
i yellow hair. His dress is of yellow brocade, relieved with black velvet, and he has 
' a black velvet cap, surmounted with a crown. In the armory of Madrid are two 
suits of armor, said to have belonged to him. One is of solid steel, with very little 
ornament, the helmet closed. From the proportions of these suits of armor, he 
must have been of full stature and vigorous form. 



'S^g g'EE CONQUEST OF GEAWADA, 



DEATH OF THE MAEQUES OF CADIZ. 

The renowned Eoderigo Ponce de Leon, Marques, Duke of 
Cadiz, was unquestionably the most distinguished among the 
, cavahers of Spain, for his zeal, enterprise, and heroism in the 
great crusade of Granada. He began the war by the capture 
of Alhama ; he was engaged in almost every inroad and siege 
of importance, during its continuance ; and he was present at 
the currender of the capital, which was the closing scene of the 
conquest. The renown he thus acquired was sealed by his 
death, whicli happened in the forty-eighth year of his age, 
almost immediately at the close of his triumphs, and before a 
leaf of his laurels had time to wither. He died at his palace in 
the city of Seville, on the 27th day of August, 1492, but a few 
months after the surrender of G-ranada, and of an illness 
caused by the exposures and fatigues he had undergone in this 
memorable war. That honest chronicler, Andres Bernaldes, 
the curate of Los Palacios, who was a contemporary of the 
marques, draws his portrait from actual knowledge and obser- 
vation. He was universally cited (says he) as the most perfect 
model of chivalrous virtue of the age. He was temperate, 
chaste, and rigidly devout ; a benignant commander, a valiant 
defender of liis vassals, a great lover of justice, and an enemy 
to all flatterers, liars, robbers, traitors, and poltroons. 

His ambition was oi a lofty kind— he sought to distinguish 
himself and his family, by heroic and resounding deeds ; and 
to increase the patrimony of his ancestors, by the acquisition 
of castles, domains, vassals, and other princely possessions. 
His recreations were all of a warlike nature ; he delighted in 
geometry as applied to fortifications, and spent much time and 
treasure' in erecting and repairing fortresses. He relished 
music, but of a military kind— the sound of clarions and sack- 
buts, of drums and trumpets. Like a true cavalier, he was a 
protector of the sex on all occasions, and an injured woman 
never applied to him in vain for redress. His prowess was so 
well known, and his courtesy to the fair, that the ladies of the 
court, when they accompanied the queen to the wars, rejoiced 
to find themselves under his protection; for wherever his ban- 
ner was displayed, the Moors dreaded to adventure. He was a 
faithful and devoted friend, but a formidable enemy; for he 



THE CONQUEST OF 6 KAN A DA. 359 

was slow to forgive, and his vengeance was persevering and 
terrible. 

The death of this good cavalier spread grief and lamentation 
throughout all ranks, for he was universtdly honored and be- 
loved. His relations, dependants, and companions in arms, 
put on mourning for his loss ; and so numerous were they, that 
half of Seville was clad in black. None, however, deplored his 
death more deeply and sincerely than his friend and chosen 
companion, Don Alonzo de Aguilar. 

The funeral ceremonies were of the most solemn and sumpt- 
uous kind. The body of the marques was arrayed in a cosily 
sliirt, a doublet of brocade, a sayo or long robe of black velvet, 
a marlota or Moorish tunic of brocade that reached to the feet, 
and scarlet stockings. His sword, superbly gilt, was girded to 
his side, as he used to wear it when in the field. Thus magni- 
ficently attired, the body was inclosed in a coffin, which was 
covered with black velvet, and decorated with a cross of white 
damask. It was then placed on a sumptuous bier, in the 
centre of the great hall of the palace. Here the duchess made 
great lamentation over the body of her lord, in which she was 
joined by her train of damsels and attendants, as well as by the 
pages and esquires, and innumerable vassals of the marques. 

In the close of the evening, just before the Ave Maria, the 
funeral procession issued from the palace. Ten banners were 
borne around the bier, the particular trophies of the marques, 
won from the Moors by his valor in individual enterprises, 
before King Ferdinand had commenced the war of Granada. 
The procession was swelled by an immense train of bishops, 
priests, and friars of different orders, together with the civil 
and mihtary authorities, and all the chivalry of Seville, headed 
by the Count of Cifuentes, at that time intendente or com- 
mander of the city. It moved slowly and solemnly through 
the streets, stopping occasionally, and chanting litanies and 
responses. Two hundred and forty waxen tapers shed a light 
like the day about the bier. The brJconies and windows were 
crowded with ladies, who shed tears as the funeral train 
passed by ; while the women of the lower classes were loud in 
their lamentations, as if bewaihng the loss of a father or a 
brother. On approaching the convent of St. Augustine, the 
monks came forth with the cross and tapers, and eight censers, 
and conducted the body into the church, where it lay in state 
until all the vigils were performed, by the different orders; 
after which it w-as deposited in the family tomb of the Ponces 



360 THE CONQUEST OF GEANABA. 

in the same church, and the ten banners were suspended over 
the sepulchre.* 

The tomb of the vahant Eoderigo Ponce de Leon, with his 
banners mouldering above it, remained for ages an object of 
vener84iion with all who had read or heard of his virtues and 
achievements. In the year 1810, however, the chapel was 
sacked by the French, its altars overturned, and the sepulchres 
of the family of Ponces shattered to pieces. The present duch- 
ess of Benevente, the worthy descendent of this illustrious and 
heroic line, has since piously collected the ashes of her ancestors, 
restored the altar, and repau^ed the chapel. The sepulchres, 
however, were utterly destroyed ; an inscription in gold letters, 
on the wall of the chapel, to the right of the altar, is all that 
denotes the place of seiDulture of the brave Ponce de Leon. 



THE LEGEND OF THE DEATH OF DON ALONZO DE 
AGUILAE. 

To such as feel an interest in the fortunes of the valiant Don 
Alonzo de Aguilar, the chosen friend and companion in arms 
of Ponce de Leon, marques of Cadiz, and one of the most dis- 
tinguished heroes of the war of Granada, a few particulars of 
his remarkable fate wiQ not be miacceptable. They are found 
among the manuscripts of the worthy padre Fray Antonio 
Agapida, and appear to have been appended to this Chronicle. 

For several years after the conquest of Granada, the country 
remained feverish and unquiet. The zealous efforts of the 
Catholic clergy to effect the conversion of the infidels, and the 
pious coercion used for that purpose by government, exas- 
perated the stubborn Moors of the mountains. Several mission- 
aries were maltreated ; and in the town of Dayrin, two of them 
were seized, and exhorted, with many menaces, to embrace 
the Moslem faith; on their resolutely refusing, they were 
killed with staves and stones, by the Moorish women and 
children, and their bodies burnt to ashes, t 

Upon this event, a body of Christian cavaliers assembled in 
Andalusia to the number of eight hundred, and, without wait- 
ing for orders from the king, revenged the death of these mar- 

* Cura de los Palacios, c. 104. t Ibid, c. 165. 



THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 361 

tyrs, by plundering and laying waste the Moorish towns and 
villages. The Moors fled to the mountains, and their cause 
was espoused by many of their nation, who inhabited those 
rugged regions. The storm of rebellion began to gather, and 
mutter its thunders in the Alpuxarras. They were echoed from 
the Serrania of Ronda, ever ready for rebellion; but the 
strongest hold of the insurgents was in the Sierra Vermeja, or 
chain of Red Mountains, which lie near the sea, and whoso 
savage rocks and precipices may be seen from Gibraltar. 

When king Ferdinand heard of these tumults, he issued a 
proclamation ordering all the Moors of the insurgent regions to 
leave them within ten days, and repair to Castile ; giving secret 
instructions, how^ever, that those who should voluntarily em- 
brace the Christian faith might be permitted to remain. At 
the same time, he ordered Don Alonzo de Aguilar, and the 
counts of Ureiia and Cifuentes, to march against the rebels. 

Don Alonzo de Aguilar was at Cordova when he received the 
commands of the king. "What force is allotted us for this 
expedition?" said he. On being told, he perceived that the 
number of troops was far from adequate. "When a man 
is dead," said he, " we send four men into his house to bring 
forth the body. We are now sent to chastise these Moors, who 
are alive, vigorous in open rebellion, and ensconced in their 
castles; yet they do not give us man to man." These words of 
the brave Alonzo de Aguilar were afterwards frequently re- 
peated ; but though he saAv the desperate nature of the enter- 
prise, he did not hesitate to undertake it. 

Don Alonzo was at that time in the fifty-first year of his age. 
He was a veteran warrior, in whom the fire of youth was yet 
unquenched, though tempered by experience. The greater part 
of his life had been passed in the camp and in the field, until 
danger was as his natural element. His muscular frame had 
acquired the firmness of iron, without the rigidity of age. 
His armor and weapons seemed to have become a part of his 
nature, and he sat like a man of steel on his powerful war- 
horse. 

He took with him, on this expedition, liis son, Don Pedro de 
Cordova, a youth of bold and generous spirit, in the freshness 
I of his days and armed and arrayed with all the bravery of a 
I young Spanish cavalier. Wlien the populace of Cordova be- 
I held the veteran father, the warrior of a thousand battles, 
1 leading forth his youthful son to the field, they bethought 
themselves of the family appelation: "Behold," cried they, 



362 TEE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

"the eagle teaching his young to fly! Long live the valiant 
line of Aguilar !" * 

The prowess of Don Alonzo, and of his companions in 
arms, was renowned throughout the Moorish towns. At their 
approach, therefore, numbers of the Moors submitted, and has- 
tened to Ronda to embrace Christianity. Among the moun- 
taineers, however, there were many of the Gaudules, a fierce 
tribe from Africa, too proud of spirit to bend their necks 
to the yoke. At their head was a Moor named El Feri of Ben 
Estepar, renowned for strength and courage. At his instiga- 
tions, his followers gathered together their families and most 
precious effects, placed them on mules, and, driving before 
them their flocks and herds, abandoned their valleys, and re- 
tired up the craggy passes of the Sierra Vermeja. On the 
summit was a fertile plain, surromided by rocks and precipices, 
which formed a natural fortress. Here El Feri placed aU the 
women and children, and all the property. By his orders, his 
followers piled great stones on the rocks and cliffs, Avhich com- 
manded the deflles and the steep sides of the mountain, and 
prepared to defend every pass that led to his place of refuge. 

The Christian commanders arrived, and pitched their camp 
before the town of Monarda, a strong place, curiously fortified, 
and situat-ed at the foot of the highest part of the Sierra Ver- 
meja. Here they remained for several days, unable to compel 
a surrender. They were separated from the skirt of the moun- 
tain by a deep ba.rranca or ravine, at the bottom of which 
flowed a small stream. The Moors, commanded by El Feri, 
drew down from their mountain height, and remained on the 
opposite side of the brook, to defend a pass which led up to 
their strong-hold. 

One afternoon, a number of Christian soldiers, in mere 
bravado, seized a banner, crossed the brook, and, scrambling 
Up the opposite bank, attacked the Moors. They were followed 
by numbers of their companions, some in aid, some in emula- 
tion, but most in hope of booty. A sharp action ensued on the 
mountain side. The Moors were greatly superior in number, 
and had the vantage ground. When the counts of Ureiia and 
Cifuentes beheld this skirmish, they asked Don Alonzo de 
Aguilar his opinion: "My opinion," said he, "was given at 
Cordova, and remains the same; this is a desperate enterprise: 
however, the Moors are at hand, and if they suspect weakness 

* Aguilar— fhe Spanish for Eagle. 



Tim CONQUEST OF GRANAVA. SGI} 

in us, it will ii^erease their courage and our periL Forward, 
tiien, to the attack, and I trust in G(xl we shall gain a victory." 
So saying he led his troops into tlie battle.* 

On the skirts of the mountain were several level places, like 
terraces; here tlie Christians pressed vaUantly upon the Moors, 
and had tlie advantage ; but the latter i^treated to the steep 
and craggy heights, from whence they hurled darts and rocks 
upon their assailants. They defended their passes and defiles 
with ferocious valor, but were driven from height to height, 
until they reached the plain on the summit of the 2nountain, 
where their wives and children Avcre sheltered. Here they 
would have made a stand; but Alonzo de Aguilar, with his 
son Don Pedro, charged upon them at the head of tlu'ee hun- 
dred men, and put them to flight with dreadful carnage. 
While they weve pursuing the flying enemy, the rest of the 
army, thinking the victory achieved, dispersed themselves 
over the little plain in search of phmder. They pureued the 
shi*ieking females, tearing off tlieir necklaces, bracelets, and 
anklets of gold ; and they f oinid so much treasure of various 
kinds collected in this spot, that they threw by their armor 
and weapons, to load themselves with booty. 

Evenhig was closing. The Christians, intent upon spoil, had 
ceased to pursue the Moors, and the latter were arrested in 
their flight hj the er^s of their wives and children. Their 
fierce leader. El Feri, threw himself before them: ''Friends, 
soldiers," cried he, ^'whither do you fly? Whither can you 
seek refuge, where the enemy cannot follow you? Your wives, 
your children, are behind you— turn and defend them; you 
have no chance for safety but from the weapons in your 
hands,'' 

The Moors turned at his words. They beheld the Christians 
scattered about the plain, many of them without armor, and 
all encumbered with spoil. "Now is the time!" shouted El 
Feri; '^charge upon them, while laden with your plunder. I 
will open a path for you !" He rushed to tlie attack, followed 
by his Moors, with shouts and cries that echoed through the 
mountains, Tlie scattered Christians were seized with panic, 
and, throwing down their booty, began to fly in all directions. 
Don Alonzo de Aguilar advanced his banner, and endeavored 
to rally them. Finding his horse of no avail in these rocky 
heights, he dismounted, and caused his men to do the same ; 



364 TUE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

he had a small band of tried followers, with which he opposed 
a bold front to the Moors, calling on the scattered troops to 
rally in the rear. 

Night had completely closed. It prevented the Moors from 
seeing the smallness of the force with which they were con- 
tending ; and Don Alonzo and his cavaliers dealt their blows 
so vigorously, that, aided by the darkness, they seemed multi- 
plied to ten times their number. Unfortunately, a small cask 
of gunpowder blew up, near to the scene of action. It shed a 
momentary but briUiant hght over all the plain, and on every 
rock and cliff. The Moors beheld, with surprise, that they 
were opposed by a mere handful of men, and that the greater 
part of the Clmstians were flying from the field. They put up 
loud shouts of triumph. While some continued the conflict 
with redoubled ardor, others pursued the fugitives, hurling 
after them stones and darts, and discharging showers of ar- 
rows. Many of the Christians, in their terror and their igno- 
rance of the mountains, rushed headlong from the brinks of 
precipices, and were dashed in pieces. 

Don Alonzo de Aguilar still maintained his gTOund, but, 
while some of the Moors assailed him in front, others gaUed 
him T^dth ail kinds of missiles from the impending cliffs. 
Some of the cavaliers, seeing the hopeless nature of the con- 
flict, proposed that they should abandon the height and re- 
treat down the mountain: "No," said Don Alonzo, proudly: 
*' never did the banner of the house of Aguilar retreat one foot 
in the field of battle." He had scarcely uttered these words, 
when his son Don Pedro was stretched at his feet. A stone 
hurled from a chff had struck out two of his teeth, and a lance 
passed quivering through his thigh. The youth attempted to 
rise, and, with one knee on the ground, to fight by the side of 
his father. Don Alonzo, finding him wounded, urged him to 
quit the field. ''My, my son !" said he; "let us not put every 
thing at venture upon one hazard. Conduct thyself as a good 
Christian, and live to comfort and honor thy mother." 

Don Pedro stiU refused to leave his side. Whereupon Don 
Alonzo ordered several of his followers to bear him off by 
force. His friend Don Francisco Alvarez of Cordova, taking 
hun in his arms, conveyed him to the quarters of the count 
of Urena, who had halted on the height, at some distance from 
the scene of battle, for the purpose of rallying and succoring 
the fugitives. Almost at the same moment, the count beheld 
his own son, Don Pedro Giroii, brought in c;;l'lctou:^1v woimded. 



THE CONQUEtiT OF GRANADA. 3(55 

In Uie mean time, Don Alonzo, with two hundred cavaliers, 
maintained the unequal contest. Surrounded by foes, they 
fell, one after another, Uke so many noble stags encircled 
by the hunters. Don Alonzo was the last survivor, without 
horse, and almost without armor — his corselet unlaced, and 
his bosom gashed with wounds. Still he kept a brave front 
towards the enemy, and, retiring between two rocks, defended 
himself with such valor, that the slain lay in a heap before him. 

He was assailed in this retreat by a Moor of surpassing 
strength and fierceness. The contest was for some tune doubt- 
ful; but Don Alonzo received a wound in the head, and another 
in the breast, that made him stagger. Closing and grappling 
w4th his foe, they had a desperate struggle, until the Christian 
cavalier, exhausted by his wounds, fell upon his back. He 
still retained his grasp upon his enemy: "Think not," cried 
he, " thou hast an easy prize; know that I am Don Alonzo, he 
of Aguilari" — "If thou art Don Alonzo," replied the Moor, 
"know that I am El Feri of Ben Estepar." They continued 
their deadly struggle, and both drew their daggers; but Don 
Alonzo was exhausted by seven ghastly wounds: w^hile he was 
yet struggling, his heroic soul departed from his body, and he 
expired in the grasp of the Moor. 

Thus feU Alonzo de Aguilar, the mirror of Andalusian chiv- 
alry — one of the most powerful grandees of Spain, for pei^son, 
blood, estate, and office. For forty years he had made suc- 
cessful war upon the Moors — in childhood by his household 
and retainers, in manhood by the prowess of his arm, and in 
the wisdom and valor of his spirit. His pennon had always 
been foremest in danger; he had been general of armies, vice- 
roy of Andalusia, and the author of glorious enterprises, in 
which kings were vanquished, and mighty alcaydes and war- 
riors laid low. He had slain many Moslem chiefs with his own 
arm, and among others the renowned AJi Atar of Loxa, fight- 
ing foot to foot, on the banks of the Xenel. His judgment, 
discretion, magnanimity, and justice vied with his prowess. 
He was the fifth lord of his warlike house that fell in battle 
with the Moors. 

"His soul," observes the worthy padre Abarca, "it is be- 
lieved, ascended to heaven, to receive the reward of so Chris- 
tian a captain ; for that very day he had armed himself with 
the sacraments of confession and communion."* 

* Abacra, Anales de Aragon, Rey xxx. cap. ii. 



2m ^'y/zT C02s'qUEST OF GRANADA. 

The jMoots, elated with their success, pursued the fugitive 
Christians down the defiles aM sides of the mountains. It 
was with the utmost difficulty that the count de Urena could 
bring off a remnant of his forces from tlmt disastrous height. 
Fortunately,, on the lower slope of the mountain, they found 
the rear-^Tiard of the arnay, led by the count de Cifuentes, 
who had crossed the brook and the ravine to come to their 
assistance. As the fugitives came flying in headlong terror 
down the mountain, it was with difficulty the count kept his 
own troops from giving way in panic, and retreating in con- 
fusion across the brook. He succeeded, however, in maintain- 
ing order, in rallying the fugitives, and checking the fury of 
the Moors : then, taking his station on a rocky eminence, he 
maintained his post until morning; sometimes sustaining 
violent attacks, at other times rushing forth and making 
assaults upon the enemy. When morning dawned, the 
Moors ceased to combat, and drew up to the summit of the 
mountam. 

It was then that the Christians had time to breathe, and to 
ascertain the dreadful loss they had sustained. Among the 
many valiant cavaliers who had fallen, was Don Francisco 
Ramirez of Madrid, who had been captain-general of artillery 
throughout the war of Granada, and had contributed greatly 
by his valor and ingenuity to that renowned conquest. 'But 
all other griefs and cares were forgotten, in anxiety for the 
fate of Don Alonzo de Aguilar. His son, Don Pedro de Cor- 
dova, had been brought off with gi-eat difficulty from the bat- 
tle, and afterwards Hved to be marques of Priego ; but of Don 
Alonzo nothing was known, except that he was left with a 
handful of cavaliers, fighting vahantly against an overwhelm- 
ing force. 

As the rising sim lighted up the red cliffs of the mountains, 
fche soldiers watched with anxious eyes, ic perchance his pen- 
non might be descried, fluttering from any precipice or defile ; 
but nothing of the kind was to be seen. The trumpet-call was 
repeatedly sounded, but empty echoes alone rephed. A silence 
reigned about the mountain summit, which showed that the 
deadly strife was over. Now and then a wounded warrior 
came dragging his feeble steps from among the clefts and 
rocks ; but, on being questioned, he shook his head mournfully, 
and could tell nothing of the fate of his commander. 

The tidings of this disastrous defeat, and of the perilous 
situation of the survivors, reached king Ferdinand at Gran- 



TlIK (Vi\QUh'ST or GHANA J) A. 3G7 

ada; he immediately marched at the head of .Ul tlie chivah'y of 
his com*t, to the mountains of Ronda. His presence, with 
a powerful force, soon put an end to the rebellion. A part of 
the Moors were suffered to ransom themselves, and to embark 
for Africa; otliers were made to embrace Christianity; and 
those of the towns where tlie Christian missionaries bad been 
massacred were sold as slaves. Prom the conquered Moors, 
the moui-nful but heroic end of Alonzo de Aguilar was as- 
certained. 

On the morning after the battle, when the Moors came to 
strip and bury the dead, the body of Don Alonzo was found, 
among those of more than two hundred of his followers, many 
of them alcaydes and cavaliei-s of distinction. Though the 
person of Don Alonzo was well known to the Moors, being so 
distinguished among them both in peace and war, yet it was 
so covered and disfigured with wounds, that it could with 
difficulty be recognized. They preserved it with great care, 
and, on making their submission, delivered it up to king Ferdi- 
nand. It was conveyed with great state to Cordova, amidst 
the tears and lamentations of all Andalusia. When the funeral 
train entered Cordova, and the inhabitants saw the coffin con- 
taining the remains of their favorite hero, and the war-horse, 
led in mouraful trappings, on which they had so lately seen 
him sally forth from their gates, there was a general burst of 
grief throughout the city. The body was interred, with great 
pomp and solemnity, in the church of St. Hypolito. 

Many years afterwards, his gi^and-daughter, Dofia Catahna 
of Aguilar and Cordova, marchioness of Priego, caused his 
tomb to be altered. On examining the body, the head of a 
lance was found among the bones, received without doubt 
among the wounds of his last mortal combat. The name of 
this accomplished and Christian cavalier has ever remained a 
popular theme of the chronicler and poet, and is endeared to 
the public memory by many of the historical ballads and 
songs of his country. For a long time the people of Cordova 
were indignant at the brave count de Ureiia, who they thought 
had abandoned Don Alonzo in his extremity ; but the Castilian 
monarch acquitted him of all charge of the kind, and con- 
tinued him in honor and office. It was proved that neither he 
nor his people could succor Don Alonzo, or even know of his 
peril, from the darkness of the night. There is a mournful 
little Spanish ballad or romance, which breathes the public 
grief on this occasion ; and the populace, on the return of the 



368 THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 

couiit de Urena to Cordova, assailed him with one of its plain- 
il^o and reproachful verses:— 

Couut Urena! count Urena! 
Tell us, where is Don Alonzo ! 

(Dezid Conde de Urena! 
Don Alonzo, donde queda?)* 



* Bleda, L. 5, c. 



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